Damhsaí Naofa is Diamhaslaí
by Derron Comes Ripping
Summary: (Sacred and Profane Dances) A new DADA professor with a questionable past is causing extreme internal distress for Severus Snape, until he finds out she's not what she seems. Rated R for adult and sexual themes and language. (Ch 8 up, please R & R)
1. Tosaíonn Gach Rud le Amhrán

He had the odd feeling he had been there before. The sense of recognition was everywhere: from the stale air to the ornate furnishings, from the feeling of stagnating misery to the slowly crumbling garden wall. He reached out, lightly fingering a silver shield hanging on the wall. He blew off the dust and sneezed, peering at the inscription carved around the rim: _Reathaí Meán Oíche is ea an Bás_ What did it all mean? And why was he here? There had to be some meaning behind it. He searched his mind for some clue; there was nothing, only the flash of a face. A voice of a child could be heard floating through the air, as if it were calling to him. "Sir? Sir?" He smiled. _Yes, my child. I am here. Now leave me be._ The voice continued speaking, becoming clearer and clearer as if the speaker was drawing nearer. _I'm busy, child._

"Professor!"

Severus Snape's head snapped up and he groaned as the lamplight shone right into his eyes. He shut them promptly and began to rub the bridge of his nose. "What?" he growled, embarrassed at being caught napping.

"Sir, it's nine-thirty. You said you had somewhere to be at ten fifteen."

Snape opened his eyes, glaring at the child in front of him. He sneered at him and said, "Thank you, but if you had been more attentive you could have told me earlier. Am I right?"

The child shuffled. "Yes sir," he said, looking down at his feet.

"Good thing you understand that. Now good night to you, Mr. Weasley."

Snape stood, grabbing his traveling cloak from where it sat on the arm of his chair. He swirled it onto his back and stalked out the door, pulling the door closed behind him. How could he have fallen asleep? He just wanted to sit in front of the fire to chase the evening chill from his body, and he must have drifted off. But what bothered him wasn't the fact that Weasley had caught him napping; it was that horrid dream. That same dream had been haunting him for a week and a half now. Every night he would fall asleep only to be awakened a few hours later by the sudden flash of a woman's naked back, horribly scarred and disfigured. He couldn't figure out if this vision had any significance, or if it was the product of his overworked and tormented mind. He was preoccupied with his mission for the Order: to worm himself back into Voldemort's inner circle in order to find out what he was doing with his Death Eaters. In the year and a half since Voldemort had returned to his physical body, Snape had been forced to endure all types of indignities as a part of his cover, and the strain was beginning to show on his features. He had black circles underneath his eyes; his eyes themselves were glassy. His neck ached. His skin seemed paler than usual, as though he had gone through something that had scared him witless.

Snape shoved his hands into the pockets of his traveling cloak and continued to walk down the street. Suddenly he spun on his heels, checking behind him to make sure he was not being followed. He didn't want to deal with that now. He had more important things to do than deal with people trailing him. Nothing. Snape snorted and continued along his way. He could almost swear he could hear footfalls behind him…

No matter. He was probably imagining it. That seemed to happen quite frequently now. He heard voices and footsteps tracking him almost all the time, and he had learned to pay it no mind. However, one could never be too careful. Snape stopped for a moment, and hearing nothing he commenced walking again. It was pointless really. Voldemort did not know of his involvement in the Order of the Phoenix, so why would he have reason to have his "faithful servant" followed? _Like I told myself,_ thought Snape, _it's all in my head._

The London air was chilly, even though it was the end of August. The drought of last year was no more; it rained fiercely at least twice a week. Tonight was not one of those nights. A slight dampness hung in the air, coating the stone streets with a slick film of water. Snape eyed a gutter cautiously as he stepped into the street, careful not to slip. His eyes glanced right and left as he disappeared down an alleyway, avoiding puddles and scanning doorways. The alleyway led into a wider street lined with old decrepit buildings. Very few people lined the street, but nonetheless Snape checked all around him before disappearing through a narrow door into a dimly lit tavern. The sign was illegible, but for those members of the wizarding world it was a very important place. The tavern was called _The Leaky Cauldron_, and it provided the gateway into Diagon Alley, the wizarding area of London. Snape ignored the crowd inside and forced his way into the back room. He found it deserted. Many of the shops closed at nine, but the one particular tavern he desired stayed open until the wee hours of the morning. Snape sighed as he tapped his wand on four separate bricks and stood back as the wall began to fold outward. A doorway of sorts was formed, revealing a narrow alley filled with storefronts. A few people nodded at him as they hurried hither and thither, fulfilling last minute orders or locking up. Snape pretended not to notice them and hurried on, his cloak billowing out behind him.

He paused at the entrance to another alleyway. He glanced left and right, and when he was sure no one was watching he ducked into it, emerging on the other side. He turned left quickly and ducked into a tavern. If it was his choice he wouldn't come here at all, but he had an appointment with a Death Eater at ten fifteen. How much longer could he keep of this charade? Could he continue to live a double life? He settled himself into a table in the corner, staring at the faces around him, trying to figure out which one was meeting him. The crowd parted, and a tall, heavyset man made his way towards him.

"Goyle." Snape nodded to him and rose, grasping his hand. "What brings you here?"

Goyle paused a moment, as if thinking about the question. "I was, uh, supposed to meet you here."

Snape raised an eyebrow and sat himself down again, beckoning for Goyle to do the same. "You are so like your son."

The man beamed at this. Snape smiled inwardly. _Point one for me_.

Snape folded his hands in front of him. "So…"

"Ah, uh, yes. I was, uh, sent here by the Boss to tell you to keep your eye out this year. Something's going on at that school you teach at." Goyle paused, thinking hard. "Uh, that's it I think."

Snape tried not to show the repugnance on his face. "The Dark Lord sent you out here at ten thirty just to tell me that?" he asked incredulously. He watched Goyle's stupid face contort. He nodded and Snape sighed. "Thank you, Goyle."

Snape rose, nodded his head to his thick associate and billowed out the door. No one was in the streets as Snape turned back into the dark alleyway and was met by a strange sight. A group of young wizards were huddled together, passing around a cigarette they had obviously stolen from a man passed out on the corner. Snape skirted the youths and hurried out into the main road of Diagon Alley. Obviously something was going on tonight…

People were standing around outside of an old building. Light spilled out from the open doorway and the windows, and loud music issued from inside. Snape couldn't make out the lyrics, but the tune was fast and filled with fury. His curiosity got the better of him and he pushed his way through to the entrance. A group of people will arranged on a stage at the front of the building, clutching various instruments and screaming out their words. One particular creature caught his eye. It was a woman playing the hell out of an electric guitar and crooning to the audience. She was so familiar, so horribly familiar… Snape couldn't bear to look at her any longer. The music was deafening, her voice pounded in his ears. He turned on his heel and hurried away from the building and into the back doorway of _The Leaky Cauldron_.

"I wonder where he goes when he says he has an appointment." Hermione was lying on Ron's bed in number twelve Grimmauld Place, watching Ron and Harry across the room.

"Dunno," Ron answered, staring at her over his latest copy of Which Broomstick? "Why are you smiling like that, Hermione?"

Hermione was indeed smiling a Cheshire cat grin that had spread itself all across her features. "No reason, Ron," she simpered, "I just have a bit of an idea."

Harry Potter, who had been silent for the majority of the afternoon, finally spoke. "When Hermione has a plan you better watch your back. So tell us, oh mighty mistress of plans, what's your idea."

Hermione began to outline her plan. "Well, Snape has to be somewhere at ten fifteen, right? Well, last time I was downstairs he had fallen asleep in front of the fire. So, Ron you get to wake him up at about nine thirty. And then we follow him to wherever he's going."

"There's only one problem Hermione. How are we going to follow him without being seen?"

Hermione sneered at the speaker. "Are you really that daft, Ron? Harry has his invisibility cloak!" Harry nodded. He was more than happy to get out of this house, the house that reminded him so much of his godfather. He didn't want to think about Sirius or this house, but here he was, stuck here.

"I agree with Hermione. At least we wouldn't be so bored." Harry sighed. He really didn't want to be here. However he hadn't been able to get out for fear an agent of Voldemort would find him first. He was kept in the house under lock and key, never allowed out. So this presented a nice prospect.

At nine thirty Ron's footsteps could be heard on the stairs as he descended to wake Snape up. Harry and Hermione waited at the top of the stairs, their breaths held in anticipation. "So, how was it?" asked Harry as Ron ascended the steps about five minutes later.

"He was rather personable for Snape. I mean, I didn't sit there and talk to him, but at least he didn't insult my intelligence too much." Ron shrugged, a look of indifference on his face.

Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak and draped it around the three of them. "Okay, we're ready let's go."

Going down the stairs was difficult for three people trying to stay unseen, but somehow they managed it. Soon they were hot on the trail of Snape, watching the familiar billowing of his robes as he turned down street after street. Several times they were forced to stop abruptly as Snape peered into the darkness behind him, checking for people who might be following him.

"He's up to something, no doubt," whispered Hermione, quickening her pace as Snape entered _The Leaky Cauldron_.

They followed close behind him through the twists of Diagon Alley, careful not to lose him in the late night shadows of an alley. Suddenly, Ron stopped. "It's Knockturn Alley. I'm not going there."

Harry could see what he was talking about. A sign pointed into another narrow passage, designating it as the premier Dark Arts area of London. Anyone who went in there was definitely up to no good. "It's no good to follow him any further. I don't want to go back in there," Harry shook his head. "No way."

Ron sighed. "Okay, we don't have to go there, but can we at least see what's going on there?" He pointed to a dingy building where a group of wizards were gathered. Yellow light shone from the windows and music poured from the doors.

"I don't know, Ron. It might not be safe." Hermione shot a reproaching look at the venue. "Honestly. It can't be good; it's so close to Knockturn Alley?"

Suddenly Harry threw off the cloak. "It can't be too bad. See, there's Oliver Wood." He pointed and waved. "Hey! Oliver! It's me, Harry!"

Oliver waved and Harry hurried over to him, with Ron and Hermione close behind. "What is this place?" asked Ron, staring through the windows at the crowd inside.

"Oh, this place? It's fairly new, only been here a few months. It's a club of sorts. Nothing special. A bar and club where you can just go to have fun. I've been coming here every weekend. The only problem is they open late so if you still live at home you'll have a devil of a time trying to convince your mum to let you go. But, since I've moved out I've been able to come. It has live music every night. This is a new band playing here; they're rather popular in Muggle London."

Harry gazed at him. "_Muggle_ London! They're Muggles?"

Oliver laughed. "No, of course not, they're wizards. It's just that they've somehow managed to gain success in both communities." He paused, as if contemplating what that meant. "D'you want to come inside? Cover's free."

"Cover?" asked Harry.

"You know, there's no fee to get it."

Harry nodded and followed Oliver inside. The light was coming from lanterns suspended over every table, giving the giant room a warm glow that suffused through the windows and onto the cobblestone street outside. The smell of cigarette smoke bit through Harry's faculties, making him sneeze. The building was fairly crowded, with youngish wizards milling about the room or gathered at the bar. One was sitting in the corner, his head lolling to the side, gazing at the swelling crowd with a look of utter indifference. "What's wrong with him?" asked Harry, pointing to the wizard.

"Him?" answered Oliver. "He's ruddy drunk, it seems." Oliver chuckled and headed to the bar himself, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione facing the crowd alone.

"Look!" Two pairs of eyes followed Ron's finger pointing to the front of the room, where the band was clustered on a stage. All the faces were unfamiliar to them, but they couldn't expect to know every face out there. A muscular, shirtless wizard sat behind a drum set, pounding away at the instrument as if beating demons out of it. His arms were heavily tattooed, and the markings on his chest surged as he tensed his muscles. The bassist was a thin, wiry man with a shaved head. He kept his eyes downcast and a cigarette firmly anchored between his lips. But the guitarist, the guitarist was a sight to behold. It was a woman, fairly young, playing the bejeezus out of a battered electric guitar. Two tattoo bands of Celtic knots wrapped around her sinewy forearms, but for some reason her shirt was high necked, covering all of her torso and shoulders. Maybe it was the appearance that mattered. She _did_ evoke quite an air of mystery as she leered at the crowd with crazy green eyes, her black hair pulled up off her shoulders in a ponytail. It was almost as if she was gazing through you, rather than at you.

"She's really creepy," murmured Hermione as she eyed the tattoos on her arms. "I mean, look at those eyes. They're huge."

Ron disagreed. "I think it's wicked. It's about time we had a wizard music scene."

Harry merely looked at the woman, staring right into her eyes. "She's angry. You can feel it. She wants revenge, but on who I don't know."

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry quizzically. "How d'you know that, mate?" asked Ron.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, really. It's almost like she's projecting her mood to the crowd, daring anyone to guess what she's feeling. But I agree with Hermione. She's scary."

Their conversation was cut off as the woman began to speak. Her voice was rough, deep, and sultry with a very pronounced Irish accent. "Awright and thanks fehr comin' oot tonigh'. 'S great an' glahrious ter see aw yeer faces, drunk or sober. We call this song Paper Airplanes, an' I want ter see all ye out on this floor, kickin' each other's arses!" She grinned and threw her head back, screaming a raucous "One Two Three Four."

"_Raise high monolithic structures so fragile. As they fall, I am ever enthralled. Gaze, lie, and smirk in time. Your arrogance will suit you well until fashion is dispelled. As waves of plastic fame go out of fashion, you're ever unknown. These waves of plastic fame are drying up, and I smile because you're dying to be forever unknown. _"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were forced to move as a surge of people rushed onto the expanse of free space before the stage and began to throw themselves against one another, punching, hitting, and kicking. "Is this fun for them?" wondered Hermione out loud.

"_From above a rain of ashes descends. Anathema I will remain, forever will remain. From below in my seclusion, look up to the sky to see paper wings and watch them burn. Without habitation. You'll never find a soul inside, no life, but nothing's died._"

Harry found himself carried away by the layers of music. The lyrics were so poignant, so true… The misery encased in these words had been so close to him in the past few weeks. Even after leaving the Dursley's his mind was troubled. He thought being with his friends would ease his anxiousness, but it didn't help that they were staying at Sirius' house. His godfather, whom he had loved so much, was gone, and now there were only the memories to taunt him.

"_No lights, but quite the show, just as long as no one knows all the motion is pantomime. Dancing in the rain of descending ash, dancing on your grave I'll see you falling. Dancing in the rain of descending ash, dancing in your dust. I'll see you all falling. I'd stop it, had you a heart._"

Harry was sad to hear the song end. He was beginning to enjoy the sound of the band and the emotion the lyrics evoked. It was a sad song, but the sadness was hidden by the rich musical quality. Both Ron and Hermione seemed enthralled as well. However, Hermione could shrug it off, and shrug it off she did. "Come on, let's get back to Grimmauld Place. I don't want anyone to know we've been gone."

Reluctantly Ron and Harry pulled themselves away from the stage. They kept glancing longingly at the venue as the strains of music swelled into the sky.

"_…Of late it's been harder to go outside…_"

They walked in silence under the invisibility cloak all the way back to Grimmauld Place. Many thoughts were stirring in their heads: who was that woman? What magic allowed her to personify that grief, that anger? Harry in particular felt very close to her, even though he didn't even know her name. She had been strong. She had been angry and seeking revenge, much like he was. Maybe she had lost someone close to her as well.

"We reek!" said Hermione as soon as they were safely closeted in Ron's room. "We smell like nasty cigarette smoke!"

"Just go to bed, Hermione. I'm tired. We'll see you in the morning."

Hermione left, and Ron and Harry changed quickly into their pajamas and climbed in their beds. Soon they were snoring, dreams of wide-eyed women and drunken wizards floating in their heads.


	2. Téim Mar Strainséir sa Seaman

Hundreds of expectant faces gazed up at him. Well, not him in particular, but at the table where he sat with the rest of the staff of Hogwarts. The Sorting had occurred much like every year; the nervous first years were herded into the Great Hall, expecting something horrible. The hat was placed on their heads and they were sent to their houses to be met with ferocious cheers and applause. His mind drifted back as he remembered his own sorting. He had faced it with no fear at all; his father had told him what to expect. There was no doubt to what house he would belong. Every member of his family since the beginning of time had gone to Slytherin. It was a given. He dimly heard the Sorting Hat's call of "Slytherin!" and he applauded mechanically. It was a ritual; since he was the head of the house he was expected to show support for the incoming first years. However, he wished he could be left to his thoughts at the moment.  
  
He glanced at the empty space next to him. So they hadn't found a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher yet. Well, that was obvious. The job was rumoured to be cursed, and who would want a cursed job? But Dumbledore had hinted at something, maybe there might be a candidate and that was why Snape's application had been turned down once again. Once again it had been the same old excuse: "Severus, you're the best Potions master this school has ever had. We need you there."  
  
Snape sighed. He was sick of the Potions job. He wanted something new, a change of scenery perhaps. He just felt so unappreciated doing what he was doing now. Given, all the students were scared stiff of him, which was partly his own fault. He believed it was necessary to appear intimidating in order to gain respect. If you showed too much of a sensitive side you would be taken advantage of, and that was never a good situation. Maybe it was just the old Death Eater in him talking.  
  
Dumbledore's voice cut through his reverie. "It seems," he said with a glint in his eye, "that our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has been delayed. Maybe Muggle traffic is slow today."  
  
This caused quite a clamour among the students. Muggle traffic? What was a Hogwarts professor doing with Muggles? At that moment there was a knock at the entrance to the Great Hall. Dumbledore smiled. "That's her now. Come in, my dear, come in!"  
  
The door swung open and a figure was silhouetted between the frames. It stepped into the light of the Great Hall, revealing a tall, thin woman clad in a black traveling cloak. Her face was hidden underneath the brim of a black fedora hat. She swept up to the staff table and settled herself in the seat next to Snape. She removed her fedora and smiled at the assembly, nodding her head politely.  
  
"This," said Dumbledore, "is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who I can happily say was not appointed by the Ministry." A few hearty chuckles issued from the crowd at the memory of last year's Delores Umbridge. "If I may introduce Professor O'Flannery?"  
  
A round of cheers erupted from the students and Professor O'Flannery blushed and smiled. Dumbledore beamed at her and then turned back to the students. "Now, I know you're all very hungry, so let the feast begin!"  
  
The students began eating ravenously as the food appeared on the table, but Snape began to scrutinize the woman sitting next to him. She wasn't what you would call attractive; in fact up close she looked rather plain. She was tall, almost six feet, and horribly thin. Her eyes were almond shaped but narrow, framed with black lashes much like his. Her long nose was straight, except for a tiny bump at the top where it had been broken long ago. Her lips were thin, although fairly well shaped. Her black hair was shoulder length, and fell about her head with a limp ease. Her teeth were large, not really large enough to be considered horse teeth, but they were still quite prominent when she smiled. It was her hands, however, that drew Severus. Each finger was unusually long and ended in a perfectly shaped nail, painted a deep red. The hands themselves were pale and looked soft, as if she was accustomed to a luxurious life. He noticed a tattoo of an oriental character on the first knuckle of her left middle finger. As he watched her right hand snaked out and she began to rub it, a definite sign of nervousness.  
  
The longer Snape looked at her the more he felt he had seen her before. It wasn't just her last name. It was her face, her body, her aura. He racked his brain, trying to find where he had seen her before. Mentally he ticked off names and faces, as well as events he had attended. Nothing. Not a shadow. He scowled. What was it about her that seemed so damn familiar? Maybe she had been in his house when he was attending Hogwarts.  
  
The feast had begun to subside. Students had stuffed themselves silly, and Snape could see sixth years Crabbe and Goyle shoving cupcakes into the pockets of their robes for "safekeeping." He heard the woman next to him chuckle softly, shaking her head at the actions of the two delinquent students. "Poor cupcakes," she muttered as she stood and put her fedora back on her head. She glanced in Dumbledore's direction and seemed to get some kind of recognition, for she followed him out of the hall and towards his chamber.  
  
Snape was about to head the opposite way heard his name called. He turned to see Professor Sinistra behind him. "Severus, Dumbledore was unable to find you before the feast, so he told me to deliver this message when I saw you. There's a staff meeting in Dumbledore's chambers tonight. I'm headed that way now; I believe it starts in fifteen minutes."  
  
Snape sighed. He didn't want to go sit through some staff meeting, but he could not ignore the headmaster's wishes. He spun on his heel and followed Sinistra down a passageway until they reached the entrance of Dumbledore's chambers.  
  
"Licorice sticks!" said Sinistra, and the phoenix statue moved aside, allowing the two men to pass. Dumbledore's chambers were roomy but cluttered, filled with all sorts of trinkets and wizarding paraphernalia. Dumbledore was seated in front of his fireplace, with the staff of Hogwarts gathered around him.  
  
"Now," he began, "you all know what is going on in the world as of late. I would like to bid you to be extra careful with your associations and be very leery of strangers. The agents of Voldemort have always been creative in worming their way into our midst, and it is well known that He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would love to have full possession of this school." Dumbledore paused, glancing at every person present before continuing. "Now, since I have made myself clear, I would like to take this time to present Miss Aislinn O'Flannery of Ireland to you. She has asked to take over the Dark Arts position this year due to her own personal experience in dealing with Dark Wizards. She has worked as an Auror for about four years and is by far one of the most talented witches to have ever lived."  
  
Aislinn blushed furiously. "That's quite an overstatement, headmaster. I have merely cultivated the talents I have. There is much I cannot do." Her voice was clipped and she spoke slowly, as if trying to disguise an accent.  
  
Dumbledore smiled at her. "Nevertheless, I have called you here to discuss with you the growing threat of evil in our life. As you know, the dementors have left Azkaban, allowing escape to be much easier. We must be ever vigilant and constantly aware of our surroundings. That said I hope you have a wonderful year. Now, I'm sure you're all very tired, so I give you leave to go to your rooms. However, will Aislinn and Severus remain here, please?"  
  
As the crowd dispersed Snape moved in closer to Dumbledore in order to hear his words. O'Flannery seemed nervous, shifting from foot to foot and rubbing her tattoo manically.  
  
"Severus, I have taken it upon myself to induct our Professor O'Flannery into the Order of the Phoenix. She has many skills that can be used there, and her...background will also aid us. She is an expert on Muggle theology and will be our Muggle correspondent of sorts. I have also told her of your position and she has expressed interest in aiding you in your task." Dumbledore paused, gauging Snape's reaction.  
  
"Headmaster, I hardly need any help in my duties." Snape shook his head, but Aislinn stepped forward.  
  
"Do you know who I am, Severus Snape?" she asked.  
  
Snape sneered at her. "You are Aislinn O'Flannery. That I know. You're Irish and self-assured. I figure that's all I need to know." Snape looked up at her. There was cold fury in her eyes, and something that looked like pride. She opened her mouth to say something, but Dumbeldore cut her off.  
  
"You two must learn to work together. Or at least be civil to each other. That's all I have to say. Now go get some sleep." With that he waved his hand as if to dismiss them.  
  
Aislinn turned on her heel, putting her fedora on her head in the same movement. She stalked out of the room, not turning to look at Snape. She exited Dumbledore's rooms quickly and turned to the left, disappearing from Snape's view just as he entered the corridor. Snape shook his head. This would be fun. Working with a temperamental and fiery woman was just what he had always wanted to do.  
  
She took a step towards him, angered by his apparent lack of interest in her aid. "Do you know who I am, Severus Snape?" she asked, hoping to sound intimidating.  
  
His answer only furthered angered her. "You are Aislinn O'Flannery. That I know. You're Irish and self-assured. I figure that's all I need to know." And then he sneered at her, a most contemptuous gesture.  
  
As she opened her mouth to retort Dumbledore cut her off with an admonition to get along. How was it possible to cooperate with a pompous and self absorbed prick, she thought angrily as she left Dumbledore's chambers in a huff. She had come to Hogwarts in a good mood, hoping to serve and aid in what she considered to be a great worthwhile cause. Instead she had been met with agitation and doubt. She if anyone should be qualified to work undercover!  
  
But doubts began to cloud her mind. Would anyone remember her if she took the job? Would people recognize her name, her face? Would they care? She sighed. It was better not to think about it. It would only make her more nervous and angry. Anger was almost second nature to her, and anger was definitely what she was feeling now. She couldn't believe the nerve of that Snape, or whatever his name was. He didn't even know her, and yet he was making assumptions.  
  
She passed a group of students in the hall and checked her pocket watch. "Shouldn't you be in your dorms?" she asked.  
  
The students shifted uncomfortable and Aislinn smiled. "Ah, I understand. Prowling about?" She watched as the students shook their heads. "Are you first years?" They nodded. Predictable. "You're obviously lost. Which room are you looking for?" she asked.  
  
"Slytherin," said a small boy.  
  
Aislinn rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Slytherin. I believe Slytherin is...that way." She pointed left down the corridor and they hurried off, not even bothering to thank her. Typical Slytherins she thought as she shook her head and smiled. She herself had been in Slytherin, but had never really felt she related. She would have much rather been in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, but given her background and family name, there was no other option.  
  
Aislinn pulled her traveling cloak tighter around her shoulders. Although a fading hint of summer still hung in the air one could feel the encroaching winter in the breeze. September would fade in October, October would slide in November, and as the months passed a sense of time would be lost. Before she knew it, the end of the year would be here and who knows if she'd ever return? Dumbledore had expressed his wishes that she stay, but it all depended on the nature of the war being fought. She might have to run if certain Death Eaters once again showed their faces.  
  
She began to hum the snatch of a song as she turned down another corridor. Now where did Dumbledore say her room was? Near the north tower, close to the classroom... She rubbed her chin thoughtfully as she eyed a doorway. That had to be it. She opened the door slowly, expecting a dusty closet or an unused classroom. However, it was a bedroom, and a fabulous one at that. The room was immense; Aislinn gazed up at the ceiling but yet unable to see it. Instead she allowed her eyes to wander down the burgundy drapes covering the windows to the stone floor, covered with a rich oriental carpet in shades of cobalt and sienna. In front of the fireplace sat a mahogany table and a wide couch, perfect for late night relaxation and reading. She gasped in delight as she saw the bed. It was a girl's dream, but yet possessed an understated and adult elegance. It was a vast four-poster with crimson drapes hanging it. The coverlet was also a matching red and looked suspiciously like velvet. Her trunk lay at the foot of it, giving an air of home to this magnificent room.  
  
Aislinn grinned and ran full tilt at the bed. She launched herself into the air five feet from it and catapulted through the air and onto the bed. She laughed like a child as her body bounced up and down on the mattress. She was happy to finally be alone and out of sight where she could relax and unwind. She climbed off the bed and opened her trunk, rooting through it until she found a zippered bag. She carried it into the bathroom and drew warm water into the claw foot tub. This has such a wonderful ambiance, she thought as she sunk into the bath. I'm expecting to wake up and find myself back in my apartment with rooms to clean and things to do.  
  
She sighed and dunked her whole head underwater. Her black hair floated on the surface like some kind of seaweed as she let out her breath in a stream of bubbles. It would be so easy to die like this. They would find me in the morning, naked and limp with my head still beneath the surface. It would be such an anticlimactic end to such a tumultuous life. She once again surfaced, drawing air into her lungs and smoothing the wet hair off of her forehead. She couldn't die now. There was a war on. She was needed.  
  
After toweling off she wrapped the wet towel around her body and went back out to her trunk. A bit more searching yielded a silk chemise and a long satin dressing robe, which she hung over the arm of a chair. The chemise was slipped on and the towel dropped to the floor as she threw back the drapes to reveal thick glass windows that opened outward into the cool night air. She gazed out over the battlements and across the lake, watching the twinkling stars reflect on the water. Absolutely beautiful. She sighed and turned from the window, rubbing her temples. She needed sleep, and time to think.  
  
As she sunk into her bed she reflected on the years she herself had spent at Hogwarts. It couldn't be said that they were pleasant; in fact they had been very trying. She had been a good student, but her family life had put great amounts of strain on her. She never really had many friends. She was too afraid to let anyone into her life, lest they find out about her home life, and her background. It didn't help she was put into Slytherin and despised by the rest of the school. Her fellow housemates hated her, too. She did not hate Muggle-borns; in fact she found them fascinating. They, however, avoided her, and so she passed her school years with only a few girls to keep her company.  
  
It felt odd to be back here. The castle hadn't changed at all, and although there was new faces it all seemed the same. McGonnegal was still the head of Gryffindor, Flitwick was still teaching charms, and Dumbledore was still the best headmaster the school had ever had. She remembered Sinistra from his boyhood days; he was three years older than she was and teased her mercilessly. He had been a Ravenclaw, and had been quite sure of himself. She wondered if he had changed any. Good old Hagrid was still there too. She smiled as she remembered the afternoons she spent with Hagrid. He taught her much about the forest and its inhabitants, and she always enjoyed her evening cup of tea she had with him. In fact she had called him "Uncle Hagrid" for the longest time. It would be very hard to see him as an equal and a teacher instead of her girlhood friend.  
  
Presently her mind returned to Snape and his pompous answer to her challenge tonight. It would be hard to work with him, but she would make it work. A battle of wills was in store. There was no doubt in her mind whose would win out.  
  
"It was her! I swear it was her!" Ron gushed as he sat on his bed.  
  
Harry shook his head. "I just don't know, Ron. Her eyes were different, and there was just something about her face. There wasn't enough emotion there to be her. Plus, she's a Hogwarts teacher! She wouldn't be singing at a club!"  
  
"Harry, she was all covered up with that cloak of hers. And maybe she doesn't exude anger on a daily basis, did you ever think about that?" He paused, as if considering the situation. "We've had weirder stuff go on here. Look at Lupin! If Dumbledore would hire a werewolf, I don't think he'd have any qualms about hiring a club singer, or even a stripper for that matter." Ron set his jaw; obviously convinced it was the elusive guitarist they had seen that night at the club.  
  
Harry smiled at his stubborn friend. "Doesn't really matter anyway. She's not Delores Umbridge, and for that I'm thankful. She seemed sane and capable enough, and she was an Auror. Maybe we could talk to her about that."  
  
It did present quite an opportunity. It was what Harry wanted to do more than anything in the world, and now a source had presented itself to him. In the past there had always been Tonks, but she was never really around much. He would be seeing this ex-Auror every day for the next nine months; he would have sufficient time to broach the subject with her. He grinned broadly. She seemed nice enough. She looked young and had a warm smile. The last name was familiar as well. He could remember hearing it before, and rather recently. Maybe it was something in conjunction with the Order. It seemed there were many connections he didn't' know about; she might very easily be one of them. He wondered what house she had been in. She seemed like a Ravenclaw; there was an intelligence emanating from her. Not a Slytherin. She didn't have that air of superiority and haughtiness that most of them had.  
  
Harry settled back onto the sheets. Lately he had been able to pick up emotions of people surrounding him, and sometimes even something of their thoughts. It frightened and intimidated him. He didn't want to be bound with this gift. Hermione had told him to go to Dumbledore, but he didn't feel the need to bother the headmaster with such a trivial problem. It's easy to pick up the feelings of others when they're shooting it at you, he thought as a comfort to himself. Sometimes the thoughts bothered him. In certain situations he could feel other's annoyance, and even their fear. Harry worried this condition would progress until he would become overwhelmed with emotion, be completely overtaken by the feelings of those around him. Ron had laughed and told him to not be so damned silly. Hermione only stressed the need to seek aid. He dared not tell anyone else; most people already thought he was crazy. He didn't need any aid in boosting that image.  
  
He turned over on his side hoping sleep would come quickly. His nightmares had lessened after the adventure at the Ministry of Magic, although they would spring up unannounced sometimes. It was times like those he wished he could have continued his Occlumency lessons, but Snape wouldn't be agreeable. Not after what happened last year. Maybe the Auror knew how to do it. He made a sleepy mental note to check with her tomorrow. There had to some skill she could impart on him.  
  
Snape sat in front of his empty fire grate, cursing the fates that made him a teacher. He had promise. He could have been an Auror, or maybe even Minister of Magic. But a teacher at Hogwarts? He had never liked children. Yet now they surrounded him. He was expected to be kind, or at least civil to them and show each of them patience. That was something he had never possessed.  
  
He looked behind him at a stack of papers on a desk. Lesson plans. It seemed his life was a stack of papers and regrets. Could he ever manage to escape this sense of depreciation? Or was he doomed to second-guess himself until the end of time? So many questions yet no answers. Life was never fair.  
  
Aislinn O'Flannery was deep in slumber, watching tropical fish swim in an aquarium that existed only in her head. They had never had fish for pets at her home, only fish to eat. She had a beta for a while when she lived in apartments, but her cat had eaten him. So much for pet fish.  
  
The dream changed. The aquarium faded into a dank hallway that she recognized as the tunnel underneath her house. She began walking into the darkness, feeling her way along the walls. They felt damp underneath her touch; the years of cold and dew had taken their toll on the stones. Suddenly a harsh scream rent the air and Aislinn sat bolt upright in her bed. Silence. She looked around her, still believing she was in her own bed in Ireland. It was only after a few moments thought that she remembered where she was: Her own chamber at Hogwarts. The source of the scream had come from the window, where a majestic golden eagle was perched. He turned a wary eye to her and then swiveled his head to continue watching the night. Aislinn sighed and once again lay down, drifting to sleep in a moment. 


	3. Tá Cumhacht san Eolas

"Since you are in your sixth year here at Hogwarts you hardly need a run- through of my expectations. This year we will be covering a variety of rather complicated potions, which will be continued in your seventh year. Now, I stress that the only reason you are here is because you have managed to do well on your O.W.L.s, so I expect the same dedication to this class as the class of last year. Any shirking will result in removal." Snape paused, surveying his captive audience. His eyes lingered on Harry Potter for a moment, trying not to sneer. Much to his chagrin the boy had made a fair score on his Potion OWL, and was thus accepted into sixth year potions. Weasley had made it as well, and there was no surprise that Granger had received top marks on everything. Another attempt to hide a sneer. No Longbottom; that was no surprise. The boy was lucky to cut his roots right.  
  
He took a deep breath before continuing. "Now, this week will be devoted to the Polyjuice Potion. It's a difficult combination, and I doubt that any of you shall succeed the first time, unless you've brewed it before." He cast a sly look in Hermione's direction. "After the initial brewing it takes one month to mature. After that month long period we will begin the testing." A pause. "But first things first. I see you all have your cauldrons, and I trust they've been scoured thoroughly. Ah, Goyle, I can see just by your face you must have forgotten that important detail. There's a sink in the back." He watched the chunky student scramble to the back of the room in order to wash out his cauldron. A few other students followed him. Snape sighed and waited for them to return. Children still, he thought bitterly. As soon as the last student had returned to their seat, Snape continued.  
  
"I see by that little mishap that summer has gone to your heads. I will let you know now; I will not be so lenient as I have been today. In the future you must handle your own cauldron before lessons and if you don't, then you might end up with some, shall we say, dangerous combinations. I would not like to try those out if I were you. Hmm, where were we? Ah yes. Polyjuice Potions. I am putting you in groups of three for your first batch. Maybe in numbers there will be a chance that you can at least get it remotely correct. One person from each respective group is going to come up to my desk to pick up ingredients." He paused, thinking. "Oh, and another thing. Do try not to be wasteful. I know some of you can't help it, but try your best or I might just take the cost of replacement out of your own pocket. The directions are on the board." He tapped it once with his wand and lines of his spidery writing began to appear.  
  
He sat down behind his desk as a queue of students formed in front of it. He took his time, carefully measuring out the exact amounts of the ingredients the potion called for. Any wastefulness and he would know. Normally he wouldn't care, but these were expensive and not to mention dangerous substances. He smirked smugly when Ron Weasely ended up in front of him, looking completely cowed. "Ah, Mr. Weasely. I know you've chosen to work with Potter and Granger, and let me assure you, if I find out about any shenanigans I shall have your head." He then handed Weasely everything he would need and turned to the next student in line.  
  
Soon the piles of ingredients scattering his desk were greatly reduced, and he was able to sit back and watch the students' progress. He could spare a few moments before walking around to help or criticize. His eyes scanned the people working diligently. It was nice to see they had taken his threats to heart. There was no doubt in his mind that they knew he meant it. Fewer students meant fewer accidents. Fortunately there were no papers to grade yet. He could just sit back and observe. Malfoy was joking with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, and Potter was in the midst of a hurried conversation with both Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Please, Mr. Potter. Share with us, what is so interesting?" Snape hoped to get Potter in a trap, to embarrass him, but he was surprised by his answer.  
  
"We were only wondering what the new Defense teacher would be like. We have that next."  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure there's little she can do about your impudence, Potter. You forgot the 'Professor.'"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir."  
  
"Good. Now, cut the chitchat and get to work. You too Malfoy."  
  
Fifteen minutes passed before Snape stood and began to wind his way around the classroom. He observed every group, scrutinizing their technique and attentiveness. "Miss Patil, is your bicorn horn supposed to be chunky? Are you trying to make soup, perhaps? Because if you're attempting to make a potion, you had me fooled." He lingered a moment at her cauldron, and then moved on, passing out praise or criticism. He paused in front of Ron Weasely, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger. He stood over them like a carrion vulture, watching every movement they made. Surprisingly he could find no mistakes. "Tell me, Miss Granger, when did you last make a Polyjuice Potion?"  
  
Hermione didn't miss a beat. "What are you talking about, sir?"  
  
Snape sneered. "Amazingly, I can find nothing wrong with your potion. So I was just wondering when the last time you made it was. I figured you had to have made it sometime for it to be so, well, perfect."  
  
Granger's eyes shifted away from his. "Beginner's luck, perhaps?"  
  
Although he knew she was lying, he had no proof. "Perhaps." He pursed his lips and moved on, ready to bother someone else. To tell the truth he felt cheated; he was looking forward to torturing Potter and Company on their first day back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy's raised hand, and spent the next fifteen minutes combining thinly veiled criticism with example as he helped the boy shred his boomslang skin. He couldn't help but wonder how Draco had ever passed his Potion OWL. Given, the boy had barely squeaked by, and if Snape had his way Malfoy wouldn't be sitting in the classroom at all. But, his father was a powerful personage and had insisted that his son continue training in potions. So, despite his abysmal OWL scores, Draco had once again installed himself between Crabbe and Goyle, joking and laughing at other's expense. Lucius had been the same way; smug, self-assured, and arrogant.  
  
Snape sighed as he registered what time it was. "Ten inches on the properties of boomslang skin. Put your ingredients and cauldrons in the back; we shall continue tomorrow." The bell rang and he turned his back on the class, flicking his wand at the board to erase the words he had previously put up there. He slumped behind his desk, steeling himself for the first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that were to come.  
  
She stood in front of the class, staring at the expectant faces. Each and every pair of eyes was fixed on hers, and she returned them glare for glare. It was necessary to make a powerful first impression; not cruel, but strong. She clasped her hands behind her back, took a deep breath and began. "Now, I have heard your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons have been, for the most part, few and far between. I know your previous professor Remus Lupin was of some help, as was Professor Moody." She paused with a smirk playing on her face. "Or what we thought was Professor Moody." A few sniggers greeted her comment and her smirk broadened into a grin. "I also know you had a certain Delores Umbridge last year, am I correct?" She could tell by the grimaces on the faces in front of her that she was. "Well, you will find I am no Professor Umbridge. My methods are odd, my teaching style loose. Maybe it's because I've never taught before. Maybe it's because I understand what it was like to be where you are now: expectant, eager, and even if you don't admit it, easily hurt." The class breathed an audible sigh of relief. She spun on her heel and began pacing. "However," she continued, "I will not be taken advantage of. If that turns out to be so, you will I find I can be a formidable enemy, and one you do not want." She stopped in front of her desk and picked up her wand from where it laid on the edge. "To start: my name." She tapped the board and a slanted cursive name appeared on it. It read a simple 'Aislinn O'Flannery.' She repeated the name to the class, pronouncing it like 'Ashling.' "I've worked as an Auror for four years, and before that I worked for the British Museum.  
  
"But that's a Muggle job!"  
  
Aislinn smiled at the furiously blushing face of Neville Longbottom. "Yes, that it is. But I also lived as a Muggle for about ten years."  
  
Sounds of disbelief met her ears and she grinned. "You heard me right. I lived as a Muggle by choice, in London." She could tell the class was confused, and she sighed. "Maybe I should start this by telling you a bit about myself. I attended Hogwarts just like you, and graduated with high marks. However, three years spent on my own in the wizarding world wore me out, so I moved to an apartment, bought a car, and went to college in London. I got a Muggle degree in anthropology and started working for the British Museum until four years ago, when I met an old friend and started working as an Auror. Up until two years ago I lived a Muggle life with a magical job. It is only recently I've moved back into this life. Any questions?" She stood facing the crowd, her hands on her hips.  
  
"How old are you, ma'am?" asked Malfoy, smirking.  
  
Aislinn turned to him with a smirk. "You must be Lucius' boy Draco. I've heard much about you. And as for the answer to your question, sir, it's none of your business." She grinned at his shocked face. "I think I should start taking roll." She strode to her desk and picked up a sheet of parchment. "Thomas Addicks? Ah, good. Elizabeth Bettancourt? Nice to see you."  
  
It continued until she reached Seamus Finnegan. "Ah, Finnegan. A good Irish name. Dia dhuit."  
  
Seamus smiled and replied, "Dia is Muire dhuit."  
  
"You're from the Killarney Finnegans, I would wager."  
  
Seamus nodded, and then asked, "Are you from the Dublin O'Flannerys, ma'am?"  
"No, they're cousins. My family lived outside of Cork."  
  
Seamus' face darkened visibly as he muttered a simple "oh." If Professor O'Flannery noticed this, she did not pay it any mind as she continued on. Soon roll was complete and O'Flannery retreated to her desk. "I think we should start with a course description of this year. If you, at any time want to say something, please do not be afraid to ask it. I'll answer all questions, except those concerning my age or my sex life." An audible chuckle came from the students. "I do not mind if you call me Aislinn, Professor, or O'Flannery. However, "Ash" and "Mick" are definitely out of the question." She grinned broadly at the students assembled. "This year we will be starting hexes. I understand from Dumbledore that you have covered magical creatures and curses. I know you also have a Charms class with Professor Flitwick, but hexes are something different entirely. Now, can anyone tell me how they're different?"  
  
Hermione's hand went up like a shot and Aislinn smiled at her indulgently. "This must be the brain of the school, Miss Granger. I'm looking forward to your participation. Please, enlighten us."  
  
Hermione began ticking through a list of why hexes were different than charms when O'Flannery cut her off. "Thank you very much, Miss Granger, but that will do for now. But those were excellent answers, each and every one of them correct. Charms are often used to manipulate objects or energy, whereas hexes are used much like curses: to manipulate people and often cause harm. Many can be quite dangerous, but then again so is the situation we are in. To put it quite bluntly I am teaching you hexes so you can defend yourself. The Ministry is having kittens that I am instructing you in this, but I feel it is necessary, as does Dumbledore." She suddenly stopped speaking and took a few deep breaths.  
  
"This class is called 'Defense Against the Dark Arts,' and that is what I am here to help you do: defend yourself and others. So, let's begin."  
  
The next hour was spent productively as Professor O'Flannery drilled the students in the types of hexes and when they were to be used. She gave out points like mad and took very few away. It was obvious she knew her stuff, but was patient when someone else didn't. Seamus' dour face was the only thing that appeared to be amiss in the class.  
  
"Cheer up, Seamus," Ron said to him as they were exiting the class.  
  
Seamus waited until he passed out of Professor O'Flannery's sight before he said anything. "Ron, I don't think you understand that she's not who she says she is. I've heard of her family, and it's not a pretty story." He hurried past Ron and down the corridor leading to Charms.  
  
"I wonder what that was all about," said Hermione. "Of course she's who she says she is! If she wasn't Dumbledore wouldn't have hired her!"  
  
Harry nodded, but couldn't shake his sudden suspicion. What exactly did Seamus mean? Surely she wasn't a Death Eater! Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed a Death Eater to be present on Hogwart's campus. There was no way she could deceive the headmaster...was there? Harry decided not to say anything to his friends until something more substantial in the way of evidence revealed itself. He threw one last look over his shoulder before hurrying off after Seamus.  
  
Snape was watching her eat. She said nothing, although other teachers conversed among themselves about the day's events. He didn't miss a detail. He noted in particular how she delicately cut her meat and slowly transferred each bite into her thin mouth. She was raised in an aristocratic family that was for sure. Her table manners were impeccable. He had been trained in much the same way, although it didn't show at times. Severus snorted. She looked up at him, matching him glare for glare. She forced her lips into a tight smile. "A bit jittery today, weren't they?" she asked.  
  
Snape snorted again. "They're like that all year. The sooner you understand that, Miss O'Flannery, the better off you'll be."  
  
She glared, blinked, and once more transferred her gaze down to her plate. Snape had figured she would have said something bitter in return, but it seemed she didn't want to fight. Where was the angry emotion he had seen last night?  
  
He rubbed his temples as Dumbledore began to speak. It was something about the first day of the year being pleasant and successful and other such mindless prattle. He respected Dumbledore greatly, but at that moment Severus just wished he would shut up. All he wanted was a stiff nightcap and dreamless sleep. He chanced a quick look over at his mysterious neighbor. Her eyes were still downcast, and her lips were tensed as if she was thinking of something painful. He was not surprised to see that she was rubbing her tattoo. She definitely was a nervous little bugger. I wonder what she's hiding, he thought.  
  
As soon as Dumbledore finished his speech, Snape was off to his room. The last thing he wanted was to be cornered into doing hallway patrols tonight. The classes and bumbling students had thoroughly worn him out. It was only when he heard the loud report of heels on stone that he stopped.  
  
He knew who it was before he turned. "It's not kind to follow people, Miss O'Flannery," he growled.  
  
The footsteps stopped. "You left so quickly I could not stop you at dinner." It was her voice; the clipped and contrived accent merely there to disguise another, less appealing brogue.  
  
Severus sneered although he knew she could not see his face. "I did not want to be stopped, Miss, not by the likes of you."  
  
Silence.  
  
He turned around slowly to see her standing about five feet away from him and very still. "What are the likes of me, Snape?" she asked. There was something feral to her voice, something dark.  
  
Severus thought for a moment before speaking. "People like you, O'Flannery, are uncouth, contrived, and wholly unfit to be here. You should learn basic manners before you start teaching students."  
  
Rage flared in her eyes, but she chased it back down, visibly fighting to control her anger. "And people like you, Snape, are narcissistic fools with the false belief that they are better than anyone around them, and therefore not bound by the basic laws of formality. I merely want to be your friend. If not that, at least see me as an equal. I beg you treat me as such."  
  
Snape chuckled sardonically. "My dear woman, if you think that such eloquence will win my affection, you are sorely mistaken. Not everyone here wants to be your friend. Some of us want nothing to do with you." He gave her a sickly sweet smile and turned away, billowing down the corridor to his rooms.  
  
Aislinn O'Flannery retreated to her own chamber quickly, hurrying down narrow hallways trying not to burst into tears. How could he! He did not even know her yet dared to make assumptions. If only he knew the truth of what she had seen... She stopped short.  
  
A giggling spirit floated about five feet in front of her, blowing raspberries at her. Aislinn rolled her eyes at the mischievous ghost. "Peeves," she sighed irritably as she tried to go around him. It seemed Peeves had other ideas. He giggled as blocked her path.  
  
"Silly little mick, you can't go that way!"  
  
Aislinn glared at him and turned around, only to find Peeves lounging in front of her. "Can't go this way either."  
  
Aislinn stamped her foot in anxiety. "Well I have to go somewhere, you annoying little fool!"  
  
Peeves merely laughed. "Dance a jig for me, little leprechaun. Little leprechaun girl!" He laughed at her again, stuck his tongue out and disappeared.  
  
O'Flannery wanted to scream. Would nothing go right for her that night? The students had been incredible, but that horrid Snape and belligerent ghost had ruined it for her. She half considered calling it quits and heading back to an apartment, but what good would that do? She would not go back to her Auror job. She was too under appreciated, and no one really wanted to be affiliated with her. Not with her background, anyway.  
  
It was that moment she turned around to keep walking when she stumbled over Hermione Granger. "Sonuvabitch!" she muttered as her left elbow hit the floor. Hermione had hit her knees on the stone floor, and was wincing as she rubbed a scrape. "Are ye all right?" asked Aislinn.  
  
Hermione nodded and accepted the proffered hand. "I am, thank you. Sorry I ran into you."  
  
Aislinn smiled. "'S no problem, dear." She suddenly grimaced as she noticed Hermione's smiling face. It was obvious she wasn't trying to hide her accent. She blushed.  
  
Hermione must have realized what was going through her teacher's mind. "Don't worry," she said. "I like it better when you don't hide it. It gives you personality."  
  
Aislinn grinned. "Thank 'ee. I've just never really, y' know, been happy with it since I've lived in London. Some o' the English aren't too keen on the Irish."  
  
"I don't mind them at all."  
  
"Well bless ye child. But ye should head on t' bed. See ye tomorrow." Aislinn waited until Hermione's back disappeared down the hallway before she continued on her way. At least there was someone here who appreciated what she was doing.  
  
Hermione walked jauntily into the Griffyndor common room.  
  
"What's the pep in your step for?" asked Ron with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Hermione smiled a patronizing smile and began humming.  
  
"Come on, out with your secret," muttered an exasperated Ron, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Oh, I just found out something about our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," she said, grinning happily. "She was the one at the club."  
  
"I knew it," shouted a triumphant Ron and he did a little dance in his chair. "I told you she was the one!" He paused and stared at Hermione for a moment in confusion. "But how did you know?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I ran into her in the hall, and she conveniently forgot to disguise her accent. When she speaks regularly she sounds just like the woman on stage, although a bit less drunk. If you get close enough to see her face she has the same features. It's her."  
Harry made a little noise of indifference. "So she plays at a club. Big deal."  
  
Hermione glared. "Just thought you'd want to know since you had some silly bet going."  
  
Ron slapped his forehead. "That's right! Harry you owe me five Sickles." Harry sighed and pulled out his money purse. Ron's smile of delight could light up the room. "This means we can go see her play. That is, if she still has her band together."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Nope, Ron. I don't want to get us in trouble by leaving school grounds. I should have never told you!" She sighed and jounced up the stairs to the girl's dormitory.  
  
"What got into her, I wonder?" said Ron.  
  
"Dunno," answered Harry. "Probably just miffed because she didn't win the bet." He pushed five silver Sickles over to Ron with resignation. "You won fair and square, mate." 


	4. Amhras ag Méadú

A month had passed. Snape had finally settled into the routine of grading papers once again, and the horrid workmanship had depressed him. He had taught these children better! This was an obvious hint to him they were beyond help; he was doing no good as a Potions master. If only he could take over the Dark Arts...  
  
Much to his dismay, though, O'Flannery showed no sign of leaving, or even tiring. He had hoped the students would wear her out, or she would grow tired of Hogwarts and pack up and leave. Like in life, his wishes weren't fulfilled. He saw her every day, appearing chipper and happy as if nothing in the world could be wrong. She had continued to attempt to speak to him, but every time she opened her mouth he snorted and turned away. He wanted nothing to do with her. First she stole his job, and then she tried to steal his position in the Order. Wasn't he sacrificing enough? Did he have to be saddled with a feisty woman too?  
  
He sighed and got to his feet. The decanter of brandy on his bedside table called to him, and he had just begun to walk towards it, when a pain shot through his body. On a reflex he grabbed his arm, wincing. No doctor was needed to tell him what was going on. This was a diagnosable malady, and one that had occurred many times. He pulled up the sleeve on his robe to see his Dark Mark glowering up at him. He silently cursed Voldemort for his timing and turned on his heel to exit Hogwarts.  
  
Outside the gates he pressed the livid mark on his arm, concentrating on Voldemort's location. He felt the pull of the wind as he began to apparate, and reappeared a few seconds later in the opulent sitting room of Malfoy Manor. The first sight to greet his eyes was an ominous one. He was literally ringed by Death Eaters. They formed a tight circle around him, closing in until their shoulders touched. Suddenly, the ranks parted and the Dark Lord himself stood before him.  
  
"Severus," the ethereal voice cooed.  
  
"My Lord," Snape responded, dropping to one knee and bowing his head. He hoped the Dark Lord could not see the almost-undetectable grimace that shot across his features as he looked at the floor.  
  
"Rise, faithful servant," Voldemort commanded. "I have summoned you here not for a Revel, but for information. A month ago I sent a fellow servant of mine, Goyle, to relay a message to you. He failed in that endeavor, and for that failure he has been punished." The Dark Lord intimated a figure in the corner, shaking uncontrollably. "He held up to the Cruciatus Curse for a long while, but as always, I won him over." Voldemort paused, a thin smile playing on his lipless mouth. "So, in lieu of sending another messenger, I have called you here myself. It has to do with a fellow professor at that school of yours. Her name is Aislinn O'Flannery. Have you made her acquaintance?"  
  
Severus nodded. "I have my Lord. I find her to be offending to me, so I do not spend ample time around her."  
  
Voldemort chuckled dryly. "Yes, I would have figured that knowing you, my faithful one. She is not in your taste. But do you know of her past, Severus? Has she told you what she knows?"  
  
Snape shook his head and replied, "No my Lord. She has told me nothing."  
  
"I have predicted that facet of the story as well." Voldemort rubbed his hands together as if chasing away a chill. "She is very important to me, Severus. It is imperative for nothing to happen to her."  
  
"I don't understand quite what you mean, my lord," said Snape, tilting his head.  
  
"Ah, my thick apprentice." Voldemort sighed, glancing up at the ceiling as if he were wishing for patience. "There are several people within my circle of Death Eaters who might try to, take care of her, shall we say. They must not be allowed near her." Voldemort paused, smiling his tight smile. "Miss O'Flannery is somewhat of a controversy among my followers." The numerous masked faces behind Voldemort nodded in agreement. "I am done with you, Severus. Just remember my words: let no one touch her."  
  
Severus rose to his feet and pressed Voldemort's pale hand to his lips. "Thank you, my lord. I am merely your humble disciple. It is an honor to be trusted as such."  
  
Voldemort smiled his hideous smile. "The honor is all mine, Severus. Now, I release you from this meeting. The rest of us will continue with our first Revel in fifteen years, but I remember how your taste for the rape of Muggles has seemed to decline. Hurry to your school, Severus, in case you are needed."  
  
Snape bowed to Voldemort one last time before retreating. The pain in his arm had subsided, but he winced at remembering it. He was happy at least Voldemort had allowed him to leave before the Dark Revel had begun. In his earlier years he was more than happy to rape and kill innocent Muggles, but after he turned double agent the very thought of his previous violations made him physically ill. It had all begun to change when almost eighteen years ago; he witnessed the beating and gang rape of a child no older than twelve. His stomach turned as he thought of the way the lash had separated flesh, or the visible fear in the girl's eyes.  
  
Snape shook his head to clear it. Instead he focused his energy on apparation, willing his body to return to Hogwarts. With a loud crack his body was propelled forward. Another crack and he was before the gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Snape sighed and pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Another quick shake of the head, and he was ready to go.  
  
The gates creaked open at his slightest touch. He could feel the statues watching him, protecting the school grounds. He hated entering through the gates. The statues knew all. He felt stupid to be afraid of marble and stone, but he had heard stories, and then there was that feeling...  
  
What did Voldemort mean about "controversy?" How does he know of O'Flannery? Snape's thoughts flew a mile a minute. This had to mean something important. Perhaps this was the reason for her interest in him; she saw him as a comrade. I am no Death Eater, he screamed inwardly. And that horrid mick had wormed her way into the Order of the Phoenix! There was no way to tell Dumbledore; then Voldemort would know something was up. Snape would just have to live with the knowledge that Hogwarts was entertaining a traitor.  
  
He started up the hill to the school, cutting across the grounds to make the trip faster. The sky was a deep blue, almost black, and no stars pierced the curtain of night. The days had begun to get shorter, and the weather significantly colder. This was the time of year Severus liked best. During the heavy winter months he had most of the castle grounds to himself, which allowed him to wander at will and think.  
  
Snape was surprised to find himself at the doors to the Great Hall. He pushed them open and blinked as a gust of hot air hit him in the face. He shed his cloak, draping it over his arm as he stepped inside. The doors shut behind him and he started across the school towards his chamber.  
  
A strange noise stopped him in his tracks. It was music of some sort, coming from the hallway he had just passed. He doubled back and flattened himself against the wall, listening for a moment. His footsteps fell almost soundlessly on the stone floor as he stopped outside a door. It was coming from here. He pressed his ear against the doorjamb, barely breathing.  
  
It was an acoustic guitar. The touch on the strings was obviously light, but it was obviously some kind of lament. He wondered who played a guitar, and why here. Perhaps it was a prefect...  
  
Snape reached out to rest his hands on the statue near the door. As soon as his fingers touched it the satyr shouted. Snape jumped back quickly. The guitar had stopped. Snape wasted no time but promptly fled.  
  
Around he corridor he stopped to catch his breath. How could he let such a stupid thing like music overwhelm him so completely? Anyone could have found him there, gaping like an idiot. And what if someone opened the door? Who was behind the door? Questions filled his head, banging against his skull and demanding answers. He told the voices to shut up and took a deep breath, steadying his still panicking nerves. When he felt he was calm enough, he continued on his way. The brandy was still waiting.  
  
Aislinn opened the door cautiously. Whoever it was might still be there. She peered out into the corridor, her eyes narrowing. No one was there. She sniffed the air, detecting a faint scent of something like sandalwood. It could have been anyone. It was probably just a curious student.  
  
She had to admit that hearing music in these abandoned halls would be a bit unnerving. It was well past eleven o'clock; it was to be assumed that everyone would be asleep, or at least quiet. In all honesty she didn't think her guitar was loud enough to be heard. She smiled maliciously as she thought of what her electric could do.  
  
Aislinn sighed and shut the door. Guess it's time to put the instruments away, she thought with an audible sigh. There had been no time lately to play; she feared losing her touch. The constant demand of the students taxed her body and left her feeling burned out and alone. Much to her dismay she had no one in Hogwarts to turn to. She had been largely friendless for all of her life, but here there was not a single person to even intimate her feelings to. At least in London there had been a few people to call.  
  
Aislinn O'Flannery sat down in front of the wide windows, which were thrown open as if they were saluting the night. A sudden burst of wind caused her skin to prickle, but she tossed her hair back in defiance. She had always loved autumn and winter, spending large amounts of time outside in the rain or snow. Most friends remembered her as a free spirited quiet woman who danced in the rain until her hair froze, and loved her for it. Here she would have to maintain her composure; dancing was only guaranteed after the sun had set.  
  
She smiled and halfheartedly touched the ends of her hair, as if making sure there weren't icicles hanging from them. She stretched, reaching her arms above her head and making a high-pitched squeal. Her back popped audibly before she settled back into her chair. Her hand snaked out to a package on her bedside table. She grabbed it gently and flipped back the top, pulling out a long cigarette and a lighter. She stood, lighting her cigarette at the same time, and took two steps forward to the window. She settled herself on the windowsill and took a long drag, holding the smoke in her lungs for a while before exhaling into the cold night air. The smoke caught the light from her window, obscuring her view of the forest in a gray haze. A raucous squawk from the corner of the room disturbed her, and she turned her head to glare at the culprit.  
  
The golden eagle had perched himself on the edge of the fireplace mantel, and was glaring at her angrily.  
  
"I know, Yank, but 'tis the only vice left me." Aislinn blew out another breath of smoke.  
  
The eagle continued to stare at her, clacking his beak in disapproval.  
  
In response Aislinn rolled her eyes. "Póg mo thoín. Y'know I never listen t' ye." She turned away from the eagle, but not before she stuck her tongue out at him. He hissed, and rustled his feathers as she turned her head.  
  
Aislinn smiled. God I love that bird, she thought with a chuckle. He had been a birthday present three years ago, shipped all the way from America into her waiting hands. She had fallen in love with the disheveled chick immediately, and christened him Yankee Doodle. Ever since then he had kept a watchful eye over her and delivered her messages to remaining family and friends. He was also a sad reminder of the friend who had sent him, now far away in New York.  
  
Aislinn took another long drag off of her cigarette, sighing as she blew the smoke out of her nose. She rubbed her eyes as the smoke drifted into them, cursing under her breath as she dropped her cigarette on the floor. Just as she was about to bend down to pick it up, Yankee Doodle dove for it and flew out the window with the butt held in his beak. He almost seemed to smile as he dropped it into the lake. Aislinn could see the cherry of the flame fall, and then disappear as it hit the water.  
  
"Very funny, ye little arse," she said to him disapprovingly as he soared back into the window. The eagle clacked his beak together, very pleased with himself. He perched on Aislinn's upheld wrist, careful not to dig his claws into her unprotected flesh. "Hey bird," she said to him as she stroked his golden feathers. Yank closed his eyes as her finger traced designs on the back of his head. Then, he spread his wings and flew out the window, looking for food to hunt.  
  
Aislinn O'Flannery turned to her desk nearby, picking up a spiral notebook and a ballpoint pen. No use to bother with that thick parchment or messy ink, good old Muggle material would work just fine with her. She tapped the pen against her teeth for a while, thinking. Then she opened the notebook and began to write.  
  
Words flowed out of her pen like water. Verse after verse of song traveled through her arm and onto the paper, until she hit a wall. The song just stopped. Aislinn tapped her pen against her teeth, wishing for some hint of inspiration. Nothing came. She stood, staring out the open window at a crescent moon, illuminating the clouds around it like a halo. It's so beautiful, she thought as she lit another cigarette, this time thanking Merlin Yankee Doodle wasn't around to squawk at her.  
  
She exhaled in another cloud of smoke, blowing it out the window. The haze floated up towards the moon, ringing it. Aislinn stared at it for a long while, just admiring the poignancy of it all. Suddenly, she stubbed out her cigarette and hurried to the open notebook. A new idea had come.  
She wrote fiercely in her moment of inspiration, not stopping until her clenched fingers hurt. She sat back, reading over her new song, and smiled. Finally, an idea of some sort. She had begun to believe that at Hogwarts no creativity occurred. Maybe it was just she. Teaching had drained her entirely; she was not accustomed to it, thus all inspiration seemed to elude her. This was the first time she had written a song in ages.  
  
Aislinn made a mental note to send Yankee with notes to her band, planning a date for a practice. Since no phones existed at Hogwarts, she had to do it the old-fashioned way. It was no problem, really. Yankee Doodle was reliable, and always got the job done in a timely fashion.  
  
She sighed, stretching again. This time her back did not pop, but nonetheless she felt better. It's time for me to be getting to bed, she thought lazily, climbing out of her chair onto the cold stone floor. She moved to close the window, but hesitated, remembering her eagle. She decided to leave it open, putting her notebook on top of her lesson plans. There was no desire to wake up and find loose sheets of paper scattered about her chamber.  
  
The bed was warm and inviting. She stretched her feet out, trying the feel the footboard of the bed. Despite her stretching, her foot contacted nothing solid, only the flannel sheets of her bed. It was amazing that at almost six feet tall she couldn't even touch the bottom of her own bed. Even after a month she was still awed by the immensity of the chamber she now called home; after years of living in cramped apartments it was a welcome change. With another deep sigh her body relaxed and she began to slip into a dream.  
  
Aislinn found herself standing in the middle of a clearing she had never seen before. It was twilight; she could tell from the beams of amber sunlight slanting between the branches of the trees. She lifted her face up to the fading light, feeling the last rays of warmth. Soon it would be night and the heat would be gone. She noticed something out of the corner of her upraised eye and turned quickly to see what moved behind her.  
  
What she saw shocked her. Her father stood before her, scrutinizing her appearance. "Aislinn, m' girl." His voice was deep and his accent very pronounced.  
  
Aislinn took a step forward. "Athaír?" she asked, lapsing into the language of her youth. "Is it really you?"  
  
He smiled at her. "Yes, child. It's really me." He paused for a moment, as if hesitating. "Someone else is here to see you as well." He made a slight gesture, and another young man stepped out from the shadow of trees. "Mó dheirfiúr," he said, bowing his head.  
  
Aislinn stood, shocked. "Mó dheartháir?" she asked, confused. The next thing she felt was overwhelming pain. She glanced down at her stomach to see a fountain of blood spurting from her abdomen, with no apparent cause to the sudden onslaught of bleeding. She raised her eyes to her brother and father, pleading with them silently. They merely stood there as blood began to run out of her mouth. Aislinn stumbled, collapsing into a heap. The last thing she saw before surrendering to the blackness was the leering face of her brother as he sang a death lament over her body.  
  
She opened her eyes to see Severus Snape bending over her, a look of concern in his eyes. Aislinn tried to reach her hand out to him, but she could not move. Instead, Severus pulled a dagger from inside his robes. "It's better this way," he said sadly before plunging the blade into her heart. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as he watched her dying. "I'm so sorry, Aislinn, but we were never meant to be."  
  
Harry Potter could not sleep. He had tried everything he knew, from opening a window to putting a pillow between his legs. It was just one of those nights. They seemed to happen much more often as of late; first it was nightmares and then insomnia. He was beginning to feel like The-Boy- With-No-Luck instead of some great hero-to-be. He threw the covers back and stepped onto the cold floor. The snores of his roommates told them they were sleeping deeply. Lucky bastards, he thought, sighing. His eyes traveled to the open window, the shutters now clacking against the stone outside. A storm was blowing in, and the wind caused the curtains to billow out like dark velvet sails.  
  
Harry picked his way across the room, shutting the window softly so not to disturb his sleeping bunkmates. Maybe something to eat would help. Harry turned on his heel and walked out of his room.  
  
The Fat Lady had many things to say to him about waking her up, but Harry ignored her threats and made his way down the dimly lit hallways. His sense of direction kicked in, and he found the door to the kitchen with no trouble at all. He glanced right and left before pushing open the door. One could never be sure when a professor on hall patrol would pop out from nowhere. After making sure no one was there, he stepped inside of the kitchen.  
  
The heat from the ovens hit him full in the face. The warm kitchen was such a contrast to the dank hallways of a wintertime castle. He took in the house elves scurrying about, trying to make him comfortable. Suddenly, he felt a light touch on his shoulder.  
  
Harry froze. The touch was gone, but the presence behind him wasn't. Harry turned around slowly, praying fervently it would not be Snape. Instead, the sight of a long satin robe met his down-turned gaze. He followed the shape of the robe up, until he was staring right at Aislinn O'Flannery's face. He gulped. The normal makeup she wore, however light, was completely gone, making her light skin seem almost translucent. Her hair was tousled, and she crossed her arms like an impatient mother.  
  
"What are y' doin' down here?" she asked sharply.  
  
Harry swallowed hard. "Please excuse me, Professor, but I couldn't sleep." He crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping she would not report him. It was common knowledge that students were not allowed to be out of the dormitories after hours, even if they were hungry.  
  
Much to his surprise, Aislinn sighed. "Me either. I'm guessin' ye came down here for a snack?"  
  
Harry nodded, still nervous. She had let her false English accent drop; underneath that contrived brogue she was pure Irish. "I am, Professor. Maybe if I get something to eat I could manage some shut eye."  
  
Aislinn grinned. "Yes indeed, I agree. I was just about t' get some cake. Want any?" She gestured to a place setting at a counter.  
  
Harry nodded, surprised. Any regular professor would have told him to get back to bed, not invited him down for food. "I...suppose," Harry stuttered, unsure of himself. Aislinn turned, telling the house elves to set another place beside her.  
  
"If Hermione heard you talking like that to the elves, she'd have a fit," Harry said offhandedly.  
  
Professor O'Flannery raised an eyebrow. "Believes in rights for them, does she?" Harry nodded and Aislinn continued. "'S a wonderful idea, no lie, but therein lies the rub. They don't want to be free. They've spent so long in this unique form of captivity they know no different. Th' only thing y' can do is to be civil to them and treat them like th' intelligent creatures they are. Treat them with respect and not abuse." Aislinn took a cup of coffee from a house elf and smiled. "Thank you, dear." The house elf curtsied, giggling.  
  
"How do you know so much about house elves, Professor?" asked Harry, sipping his coffee.  
  
Aislinn didn't answer right away. She stared over his head, a vacant look in her eyes. She heaved a great sigh. "Harry, there are some things it would be best not for y' to know yet."  
  
It was Harry's turn to look at her quizzically. "What do you mean, Professor?"  
  
Aislinn glared at him. "'S just as I did tell ye. My past is not open for yeer discussion!"  
  
Harry glared back. His forwardness shocked even himself, but he felt it had to be done. "Your past? I asked nothing about your past, Professor. Only about what you knew about house elves." He narrowed his eyes. "Is there something in your past you want to forget about?"  
  
As soon as those words left his mouth he knew he had made a mistake. Aislinn hurled her coffee mug against the wall, spraying coffee and shards of glass all over the floor. Everyone in the kitchen winced. "Harry Potter!" she roared as the house elves began to hurriedly clean up the mess she had made. "I dinnae know where ye get this insolence from, but it will stop, d'ye understand me? My past is of no business of yours, and see to it that ye don't make it yeer business. And for those questions, you'll be servin' a week's worth of detentions with me! Now get up to yeer room!"  
  
Harry trembled with the force of her outburst. She stood in front of him, shaking all over. "I'm sorry Professor. It's just..."  
  
She cut him off abruptly. "Get out of me sight, ye filthy little fool! Go!"  
  
Harry fled the kitchen, not even caring about the uneaten piece of cake sitting on the plate next to Aislinn's. The last thing he even saw of her that night was her nonchalant shaking of her head as she settled down to finish her snack.  
  
Despite his Professor's orders, Harry did not go back to his room. Instead he made his way silently to the library, pausing every few minutes to watch for hallway patrols. He made it safely and opened the door cautiously. It was empty; not so much as a mouse stirred. He knew his way. He had looked in this book many times in order to find out about friends and enemies, as well as some of his professors. It was not placed in the Restricted Section, but was still considered off-limits for students. He smiled deviously as he pulled it off the shelf and staggered under its weight.  
  
He set it down and opened it. The smell of old paper and ink hit his nose, and he fought the urge to sneeze. He turned the pages, searching the names written in at the top of the pages. Nothing seemed to catch his eye. Most families were of English descent, although there was an occasional Scottish name. I guess the Irish-English tensions affected wizards too, he thought with a grin.  
  
Suddenly, a name at the top of the page stood out at him. He ran his finger underneath the letters; silently thanking Merlin he was able to find it. His eyes skimmed down the page, taking in the immense history behind the family. O'Flannabhra. That's an old Irish name if I ever heard one, he thought. His finger traced over the lines until he came to the bottom of the page. Aislinn Ríonach O'Flannabhra, daughter of Alastair O'Flannabhra and Bean Mhi Shaughnessy. That was where the name came from. Alastair O'Flannabhra had been one of the Death Eaters killed in one of the last battles before the fall of Voldemort. Bean Mhi was imprisoned in Azkaban for being a Death Eater. In fact, the more Harry looked at the page, the more he became convinced that almost every relative of his professor was somehow affiliated with the Death Eaters.  
  
Harry shivered. That was why she didn't want to talk about her past. There were definitely sinister things in her family, and he could see the reason why she didn't talk. Unless... No, that's impossible. Harry shook the thought out of his head. It was impossible for her to be a Death Eater. Quirrell was a Death Eater, Harry.  
  
"No!" It was only after the echoes had died away that Harry realized he had spoken aloud. If there were anyone in the halls, his shout would most definitely have given away his position. It was imperative that he leave the library, and quickly. After replacing the book he hurried towards he doors of the library, hoping to heaven no one had heard him speak.  
  
The hallway was clear, but for how long? Harry's slippered feet carried him up the twisting staircases to the entrance of the Gryffindor common room. He endured the tongue-lashing from the Fat Lady for a second time in one night, and then crept past the portrait to a couch. At that time of night the common room was deserted, and snores crept down the staircases from both dormitories. Harry was still somewhat shaken after his ordeal with Professor O'Flannery in the kitchen, and decided it would be best to go to bed, and perhaps forget the tirade that his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had had that night.  
  
He climbed the stairs to his dorm silently, wondering what had come over his Professor. The door to his room swung in silently, and he stalked to his bed, careful not to wake his roommates. After pushing back the coverlet, Harry relaxed into his pillow and embraced sleep like an old friend.  
  
Snape spent most of his breakfast rubbing his temples, trying to chase away the headache that was brewing in his immediate future. That horrid woman sat to his right, looking pristine in her teacher's robes. I'm sure she had a nice sleep last night. Snape glared at her for no particular reason, other than a bit of envy that she should be the one sleeping when she was causing him so much internal distress.  
  
The news of last night had come to a shock to him. It was hard to believe Aislinn was a Death Eater, but stranger things had happened. He was now even more determined to see her fail. He had spent most of the night with his brandy, trying to puzzle out a way to tell Dumbledore without raising Voldemort's suspicions. He had even bothered to think about how he was going to get her out of the Order of the Phoenix. Only a voice in his head made him refrain from denouncing her before the school. He had never heard her name before in conjunction with Death Eaters. Her family name, yes, but her name-never. There was one way to find out, and it rested in the library.  
  
Breakfast over; Snape threaded his way through departing students to the library. His mind was focused on one thing; he didn't even feel it as he turned a corner right into the very person he was dreading to encounter. He stepped back, tensing his jaw slightly. "Miss O'Flannery."  
  
It was not a greeting, merely a statement. She nodded at him in return, a curt reply. Perhaps she was finally taking the hint he wanted nothing to do with her. "Severus."  
  
He looked her in the eye. She didn't flinch, nor did she move. "If you will excuse me please." She still did not budge. Her gaze hardened as she stared at his face.  
  
"Don't think I don't know, Severus Snape," was all she said before she stalked off.  
  
Snape stared at her, agape. That sounded very much like a threat, and he never responded well to threats. He shook his head to clear it and continued on towards the library. He had a good hour before classes started, and he would use it productively. Normally he would head towards the dungeons and his classroom, but today there were more pressing matters weighing on his mind. Matters like Aislinn O'Flannery.  
  
"Don't think I don't know, Severus Snape," she growled, anger flashing in her eyes. He couldn't deny he was avoiding her, and he must think her stupid if he believed she didn't see it. Hopefully a hint of that magnitude would sink into his thick male skull. She shook her head sadly as she mounted the stairs that would lead to the north tower. Men. There were only a few men she had met that didn't act like complete dolts most of the time; many of them still lived in Ireland, or were Muggles who didn't have an inkling of what she was. To them, she was Aislinn the anthropologist, doing her work diligently and reserved. Aislinn the guitar player. Never Aislinn the witch, Aislinn the hunted, Aislinn the abandoned. One man, however, had stayed closer to her than any man in her life ever had. Last she had heard, he was in Spain, speaking to their Ministry about the growing threat of Voldemort and Death Eaters. Yes, she was worried for him, but he could take care of himself.  
  
Aislinn stopped, surprised. Ron Weasely was waiting in front of her classroom door, sitting on the cold stone. "Mr. Weasely?" she asked, confused.  
  
He started, jumping to his feet. He flashed an embarrassed smile when he realized who she was, saying, "You scared me, Professor."  
  
She smiled back at him. "I take it you had trouble with last night's homework. I had several students come up to me last night asking about it. I know it's difficult, but I always find you learn the skill better if you know the history behind it."  
  
Ron nodded, but his face didn't seem so enthusiastic. "But why the history of a stinging hex?"  
  
She nodded as she unlocked the door, removing wards with a snap of her finger. Ron's voice froze in his throat. Aislinn looked up. "What?"  
  
"I-I didn't know you could do that," Ron stammered.  
  
Aislinn chuckled. "That? The skill runs in my family. Wandless magic isn't so difficult with practice. You've just got to have the right touch." She snapped her fingers again and the room became illuminated with lantern light, despite the morning sun shining through the windows. "Now, as you were asking earlier, did you know that a form of the stinging hex was the final blow delivered in the Hungarian Wizard Wars of 1215? It was enough to convince Waldemar Bathory to sign a treaty making it illegal to use the Cruciatus Curse as a form of torture, which, as you know, still holds today."  
  
Ron stepped back, amazed. "Really?"  
  
Aislinn nodded, grinning sagely. "Really. Now come in and sit down. Your other classmates will be here shortly, and I can answer any more questions you have."  
  
Harry dreaded his Defense Against the Dark Arts class the next day, and not because of the confrontation he and his professor had had the previous night. There had been no way to get her homework assignment done, and after the fight last night he didn't want to chance anything. In her usual style, Professor O'Flannery passed between the rows of desks, collecting the homework assigned from the previous night. When she got to Harry, he shook his head and lowered his eyes.  
  
The professor didn't move. Harry raised his eyes to see disappointment written on her face. "I had expected more from you, Harry Potter," she said softly. "If you want to be an Auror, I suggest you put more effort into your schoolwork." She paused. "However, I will allow you to turn it in tomorrow for half credit, which is better than nothing. Think on that." She moved on, collecting the remainder of the homework.  
  
Ron leaned over. "It's not that bad, mate. If it had been Snape, you would have a detention."  
  
"I already do," said Harry, and he began to relate the entire tale to Ron. "So anyway, that's how it ended up," he finished.  
  
Ron raised a red eyebrow. "It does bring to light some interesting possibilities, but I wouldn't draw any conclusions yet."  
  
"No conclusions? Her family practically admits her as a Death Eater. I don't think there's any way she wouldn't be!"  
  
Professor O'Flannery spun around, glaring at Harry and Ron. "I want to see both of you after class, gentlemen. We have a very serious matter to discuss." Her eyes were wide, and angry. In the background, Harry could hear Draco chortle. Aislinn spun. "Mister Malfoy! I will be seeing you as well." The laughter was abruptly cut off.  
  
Class seemed to crawl by that day. O'Flannery lectured on history and practical uses, not even bothering to note the number of sleeping students. As the minutes ticked down to the final bell, Harry's stomach clenched. He did not want to be stuck in the same room with Draco Malfoy and Aislinn O'Flannery, even if Ron was there. The bell sounded and the other students began filing towards the door. Hermione shot Harry and Ron a dirty look; Seamus' was one of commiseration.  
  
Professor O'Flannery was pacing at the front of the classroom. "Gentlemen, I do not enjoy disruptions in my classroom. For each of your disruptions I will take five points each away from your houses. Draco, I hope I never hear you laughing at another's misfortune again, or the punishment will be much greater. Harry, Ron, I'm disappointed that you think you can carry on a conversation when I am trying to give a lesson." She paused, eyeing each of the students. "Do I make myself clear?"  
  
A chorus of "yes ma'am's" greeted her. She seemed satisfied and made a gesture with her hand for them to leave. Harry turned, and was stopped by her voice. "Remain here, Mister Potter."  
  
Harry sighed. It was coming. He turned back around to face his teacher, eyes on the ground.  
  
"Look at me," she commanded, and Harry raised his eyes. "I know what you think I am. I'm not stupid, Harry. I know no way of showing you, except this." She raised the left sleeve of her robes to expose her naked forearm. "Do you see a Dark Mark?"  
  
Harry shook his head. In fact, there was nothing there, except about eleven pale scars arranged in lines down the pale underside of her arm.  
  
"I am not a Death Eater, Harry. That is the only way I know of convincing you, without making a fool of myself." Harry nodded sullenly.  
  
"You are free to go, Mr. Potter. Do not forget you have detention tonight with me."  
  
"Yes ma'am," said Harry quietly as he grabbed his bookbag from his seat and hurried out of the classroom, happy to be alive. He was not yet convinced. 


	5. Comhghuaillí i Gcoiteann

"As you know, your potions have aged a good month and three days, so I trust we can continue with our lesson." Snape stood before his class, arms akimbo. "The next step is quite simple. In your groups, I want each of you to take a hair of one of the other members. For example," Snape paused, looking around the classroom. "For example, Malfoy will take one of Goyle's hairs, Goyle will take one of Crabbe's, and Crabbe will take one of Malfoy's. I trust that is not so difficult?" Snape asked with a raised eyebrow, almost daring anyone to object. No sound came from the assembled students. "Good. Now, once that simple task is completed, you will put the hair into the glass in front of you. Fill the glass half full of the potion, and drink." Another pause. "I trust that even a undertaking as simple as that will be bungled by some of you." His gaze took in Ron Weasely and Harry Potter, skipping over Hermione Granger. "I warn you it tastes nasty, so be prepared. It's best if you toss it down your throat as quickly as possible."  
  
Goyle chortled. "Like taking a shot?" he asked.  
  
Snape glowered at him. "Much like taking a shot, Mister Goyle. If you paid enough attention to your schoolwork as you do to drinking, you might actually have a decent grade in this class." Goyle promptly shut up.  
  
"Now, begin."  
  
Padma Patil was the next one to raise her hand. "So you mean we actually have to drink the hair?" she asked with a disgusted look on her face.  
  
Snape smiled a thin-lipped smile. "Yes, Miss Patil. It's hard to believe you have such an aversion to drinking hair when last week I caught you with your tongue in Mister Weasely's mouth. The human mouth is far more disgusting than hair is, you understand."  
  
Padma went bright red and yanked a single hair out of her head. Ron looked ashamed as well. Snape smiled inwardly. He was quite proud of his ability to completely cow students by just looking at them and cocking an eyebrow. It took skill, and he had perfected it to a tee.  
  
As he walked around the classroom his thoughts wandered. He had found out a good many things about his colleague that morning, and he was now more than sure of her allegiance to Voldemort. However, there could be no formal denunciation without hard proof, and he knew just how to get that. He was distracted from his thoughts by a raised hand. "Yes, Miss Granger."  
  
"Professor, what would happen if you accidentally used an animal hair instead of a human hair?"  
  
Snape put his thumb to his lips as if thinking. "It would be a very serious mistake on your part if you were to do so. Polyjuice Potion is only to be used with things certified to come from a human being. Although it would change you into the outward form of an animal, the transformation will not fade within the allotted hour. Another more difficult potion must be brewed in order to counteract the animal DNA. Isn't that true, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, Professor."  
  
Snape nodded once. "Now, on the count of three, I want you all the drink. To ease your frustrations about transforming, I have taken the liberty of...borrowing some of Professor Sinistra's hair." Snape strode back to his desk and took a glass off of it. "It is already in the glass." His next stop was at Harry, Ron, and Hermione's cauldron. He ladled the glass half full of the sickly-looking potion and swirled it around. The students followed in his example.  
  
Snape took a deep breath. "One." Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. "Two." Dean Thomas swallowed deeply; Snape could see unease written over his features. "Three." Snape tossed the brownish liquid to the back of his throat like he was taking a shot of alcohol. He swallowed once and grimaced. One could never become accustomed to the taste. It was like drinking sewage. All around him students groaned, grimaced, or held their stomachs trying not to vomit. Seamus Finnegan was at the sink in the back, hanging his head over the rim.  
  
One by one, the students began to transform into one another. Snape could feel himself shortening by a good six inches. His hair shortened, becoming close cropped and brown. His robes felt three sizes too long. Snape shook his head quickly. No matter how many times he had used Polyjuice, he could never fully get used to the sensations that came with it. He knew he was the same inside; his voice and thoughts were his own, but the completely different outward appearance always startled him.  
  
All the students had seemed to finish their transformation as well. Many of them gazed at each other in astonished shock. "I-I'm a boy," he heard Hermione Granger say. However, Hermione now looked like Harry.  
  
"Perfect," Snape heard himself say. It had gone over without a hitch. Normally he had someone turning into an animal, or sicking up all over themselves. One by one each head turned to face him. "As you can see, you are still yourself inwardly. Your voices are the same, as Miss Granger has just proven. A whole other potion must be brewed if you want to change your voice, but it is quite difficult and will not be attempted until your seventh year." He could see Goyle shaking his head in apparent disbelief. At least he thought it was Goyle. It looked like Crabbe; for all he knew it could be Malfoy.  
  
"Now, if you think you can pull off a prank of some sort using these ingredients, let me warn you I have everything under lock and key. After a theft five years ago I have also taken to putting wards on my supplies, most of which are very nasty." He took a moment to reflect on one particular one that would make anyone who touched the cabinet except him break out in an uncomfortable rash all over their face. "Also, to buy them, you have to be over eighteen, thus a full wizard." He grinned smugly. "So I believe all of you are out of luck." He checked the watch on his wrist, noting the time.  
  
"I want twelve inches on the steps used to make a Polyjuice potion, as well as the effects and drawbacks. You will all change back in about forty-five minutes. Clean your cauldrons and stay quiet until the bell rings." A rush of students to the sink made him shout his next words: "I want this classroom as clean as when you came in, or I will take fifty points from both houses!" He would really do no such thing; it was just a threat. He had no qualms about deducting so much from Gryffindor, but taking fifty points away from Slytherin, his own house, was another thing entirely.  
  
He walked back to his desk, cursing the too-long robe. He sat down and pulled out a quill pen and a bottle of red ink. Back to grading. Most of the students had improved in their homework, but a few had actually gone downhill. Malfoy and his cronies were three of the six or seven who were a centimeter close to being kicked out of his class. Granger, as usual, was making the highest marks, followed, surprisingly, by Ron Weasely. Obviously the boy had taken his threat at the beginning of the year seriously. Potter was in the top half, although Snape would never admit it out loud. Anything that came even close to praising the boy would never come out of his mouth. Not after what happened last year with the pensieve. Snape would find it difficult to ever trust the boy again. Potter felt he was above the rules; things must be bent for him. Snape felt that one of his personal missions in life was to bring James Potter's son into the real world and deflate the child's big head.  
  
He let his thoughts turn away from Harry Potter, who was vigorously scrubbing his cauldron, and flow to something more pressing. Aislinn O'Flannery, or O'Flannabhra, was a problem that needed to be dealt with immediately. It had come as a shock to him to find out who her parents were; he had met Alastair O'Flannery years ago the day after he had taken the Dark Mark. Alastair had been Voldemort's right hand, or close enough. Alastair had been dead a good sixteen years; he had been killed in one of the last battles before Voldemort fell. Aislinn's mother, Bean Mhi Shaughnessy-O'Flannery, was currently imprisoned in Azkaban along with Aislinn's older brother Richard. Almost every member of her family, except for a few cousins in Dublin, had been Death Eaters at one point or another. Severus remembered a close companion, Will Murphy, who had taken the Dark Mark the same night Severus did. Sean had died three years later, in a skirmish between Aurors and Death Eaters. It was only today he learned that Sean had been Aislinn's second cousin.  
  
A bell cut through his reverie. His dark eyes scanned the classroom as students grabbed their bags and hurried out. Most had begun to change into themselves again; Weasely's telltale red hair graced Hermione's swiftly changing face. Snape chuckled evilly at the thought of sending these transforming students into O'Flannery's Defense class. He hoped she would be confused, even better if she was angry. He had been hoping for a confrontation for a few weeks now. He wanted to get her flustered, he wanted to see if she would admit anything if her anger made her lose control. He had found himself surreptitiously studying her at meals, watching her face for any expression. If only he could somehow see her arm...  
  
He looked up to see timid first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws taking their seats. Fear was in their eyes. He wanted to cackle. Today, everything seemed to be going all right.  
  
A large smile spread across Aislinn's face as she read the letter one last time. Yankee Doodle had done his job well, although the letter he brought back with him was poorly timed. So he's coming back from Spain sooner than I thought. He should be arriving a bit before dinner, then. Aislinn wanted to dance. Finally, someone to talk to, she thought as her grin widened, if that was at all possible. She put the letter on top of a pile of papers and put them all underneath her arm. A bit of grading would pass the time before her friend got here, if she could keep her mind on the task at hand.  
  
She sashayed down the hallway, quietly humming a tune to a song she had been working on. She fairly jumped up the stairs, gripping the sheaf of papers under her arm tightly. It would not help to lose them all on the stairs. When she reached her door, she snapped her fingers, removing wards, and executed a neat turn before turning the handle. A blast of freezing air hit her in the face. The window was wide open; Yankee Doodle was perched on the back of her chair, watching her with his huge golden eyes. Aislinn waved to him, and he clacked his beak in return. She laid the papers on her desk and searched around for a red pen. She cursed silently when she failed to find one. I must have left it back in the classroom, she thought, not wanting to climb down the stairs again. She didn't think using a Summoning spell would work either; she would end up with half the pens in the school piling up in front of her door. She grinned. That might be fun to try sometime.  
  
She closed the door behind her, not bothering to reset wards. She was only going to be gone for a few minutes; not enough time for anyone to pull a prank. Yankee was fiercely protective; he would probably dive at anyone that came in the room except her. Her feet slapped the stones as she ran down the hallway and took the stairs two at a time. She arrived in front of her classroom, fairly breathless, and leaned against the door a minute before removing its wards and stepping inside. Nothing was out of order, and her red pen was on her desk, where she had left it. Aislinn smiled to herself; her inner child was always forgetting things. She continued humming her song as she returned to her room, both pen and ink in her hand. She stopped short when she saw her door open. The song was driven from her mind as she flattened herself against a wall, wand ready in her other hand to blast whoever it was into last week. She steeled herself for an attack as she inched along. I can do this. Student or not, I'll just stun them... She jumped in front of the door, wand ready to curse. Suddenly, her wand arm dropped to her side. "So."  
  
"So," came the reply. The man sat at the desk, his worn robes hanging open exposing black trousers and a collared shirt. He looked young, but his light brown hair was streaked with gray. He smirked at her. "Dumbledore pointed me the right way, and I figured I could just come in."  
  
Aislinn frowned at Yankee Doodle, who was preening his feathers. "Good for nothing bird," she muttered. She turned her gaze back to the man in her chair. A smile lit up his face and she smiled back. "You always assume, Remus. What if I had a ward of some sort planted?" He rose. "I knew you wouldn't." He was about six feet tall; Aislinn could look him right in the eye. "I know you well, Ashy, in case you've forgotten."  
  
Aislinn grimaced. "If you call me 'Ashy' again, Moony, I fear I will have to curse you, and badly." She grinned, and embraced him tightly. "I missed you," she murmured into his ear.  
  
"Every day without speaking to you was torture," whispered Remus, and kissed her cheek. Aislinn burst out in laughter, her whole body shaking against that of her friend's.  
  
"Liar," she muttered with a smile on her face. "You know as good as I do that every moment you spent away from me was a breath of fresh air. No doubt you were going out on dates every night with those sexy Spaniards."  
  
Remus Lupin shook his head. "Hardly. You see, I was there on business. I spent most of my time not around beautiful people, but around wizard bureaucrats from the Ministry. I wish I had your skill for languages."  
  
Aislinn shrugged and said, "You know, it's never too late to learn." She released Remus and turned to the bed. "I'd offer you a place to sit, but the bed seems to be taken over, as does the chair." She intimated the lump in the middle of the bed sheets, and Lupin smiled. Yankee Doodle, who was perched on the back of her chair, screeched as if to draw attention back to him. Aislinn waved him quiet with a dismissive gesture as she snuck up to the bed, padding on silent feet. She raised her arms high over her head, and with a sudden shriek she brought them down on either side of the mysterious blob in the bed.  
  
The lump shot up the bed, towards the headboard, and out from underneath the comforter. Aislinn stepped back, arms akimbo, and Remus smiled. "You still have that good-for-nothing cat, I see," he said. The cat in question stood on Aislinn's pillow, fur standing on end.  
  
"It's me, Bo," Aislinn said and sat down on the edge of her bed. She was joined by Lupin, and the cat curled up in her lap. "What's the word from the Spanish Ministry?"  
  
Lupin shook his head. "No good news. Minister Ortega seems to think Voldemort's return is some kind of elaborate fabrication planned by Death Eaters. He's refused aid until we have 'concrete proof.' That's the way he put it. As if we're fucking overreacting."  
  
Aislinn reached out and touched his face. "Calm down, dear. He's not going to change his decision just because you fret about it."  
  
"God, Aislinn, will you please drop that hideous fake accent," Lupin grimaced.  
  
"Fine. If y' wanted me t' drop it, y' could've jest asked," Aislinn responded, waving her hand in a halfhearted gesture of agitation. Lupin shrugged, and reached out to stroke the cat still in his friend's lap.  
  
"How did he ever survive?" Lupin asked, underneath his breath.  
  
Aislinn looked at him for a moment; a considering gaze. "Because 'e didn't give up, Remus. We never give up."  
  
Remus Lupin raised his eyes and gazed right into Aislinn's. "Keep drawing breath, I guess." He sighed, remarking, "I just don't know how you were able to do it. Sometimes I can barely live with my own actions, let alone those of my family." He gave her a lopsided grin. "By the way, Albus wants to talk to you about something. After that, you have to sing me a song, or else."  
  
"Then yeer comin' wit' me, old man. If I have t' play y' a song, y' can at least keep me company while th' 'eadmaster is asking whatever 'e's asking."  
  
Remus shrugged, and got to his feet. Aislinn pushed the cat off her lap, and took her friend's proffered hand. She muttered a thank you, and held the door open for Remus, sealing wards behind him with a waving of her fingers and two swift snaps. She began singing a song underneath her breath as she walked the corridors, Lupin close behind her.  
  
"Do ye miss Sirius Black?" she asked suddenly, and Remus stumbled.  
  
"Aislinn, that's a stupid question if I ever heard one. He was one of my best friends, Aislinn. If you were to lose, say, Fionnuala, wouldn't you feel a giant hole in your heart?" Remus shook his head. "I can't believe you even asked that question."  
  
"Don't y' be thinkin' me stupid, Remus. I've lost more than ye've ever imagined."  
  
"I forget Aislinn. It's hard to remember all the shit you've been through, believe me." Remus gave her a grin, and slid his arm around her shoulders as they passed into Dumbledore's chambers.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was sitting in an overstuffed chair, gazing over his spectacles at Aislinn and Remus as they entered. His face lit up in a smile. "Both of you, please, sit. It's so wonderful to have you back, Remus, if only for a short time. Aislinn, dear, I have something to ask of you. As you have stated to me previously, in your work as an Auror you were trained in the skill of Occlumency. One of our students needs that skill, and badly. I believe you might know him?"  
  
Aislinn fixed Albus with a penetrating gaze. Her false accent slipped into place as she addressed her superior. "Just who is this student, if I may inquire, Headmaster?"  
  
Albus smiled. "He's a sixth year Defense student. His name is Harry Potter." He winked at Remus, who shook his head slightly.  
  
"Harry Potter?" asked Aislinn, confused. "I can understand why, but why choose me?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "He was originally being taught by Severus, but their relationship is not what I would call friendly. There was a breach in trust and Severus vowed to never teach young Mr. Potter again. That is why I am asking you, Miss O'Flannery. If I had anyone else, I would go you them first. I know you have many unsavory memories you don't want to relive, but this boy needs the protection Occlumency can give him."  
  
Professor O'Flannery sighed. "He does have detention tonight with me, as he does for the rest of the week. It would be a good of time as any to start the lessons." Remus Lupin squeezed her hand, and Aislinn glanced at him quickly, flashing a smile.  
  
"If I may inquire, Remus, will you be staying for dinner?" Albus asked.  
  
Lupin nodded. "I believe I will be, Headmaster. And I need to inquire of you as well. Will the Order be meeting tonight?" When Albus nodded, Lupin continued. "Here, or in London?"  
  
Albus gestured with a finger. "Here, my good sir. I have no desire to go to London tonight; it's supposed to rain, and Heaven knows what the damp does to my joints." Dumbledore beamed at both of them. "Thank you both very much, especially you, Aislinn. I hope it's no inconvenience."  
  
Aislinn flashed a smile, but inside her mind rebelled. She slipped her arm around Lupin, and steeled herself for her lesson later that night.  
  
Harry waited outside the door to Professor O'Flannery's classroom, preparing himself for the obvious long night ahead of him. He gave himself a shake, and knocked on the door. It opened automatically, and Harry stepped inside. Aislinn was silhouetted against a window, her arms crossed over her chest. Her school robes had been discarded, tossed over a chair as though it was refuse. She rubbed her arms as though she was cold, although Harry found it stifling in the room. "Professor?" he asked timidly.  
  
She turned, fixing Harry with a cold stare. "I see you decided to come after all." Her voice was cold. "You're late. I should dock points for that, but I'm not in mood. Instead, you will just have to work extra hard tonight, won't you?" Her tone of voice left no room for discussion. Harry nodded, and she continued swiftly. "I have been asked to teach you something which, if I am not wrong, you had begun last year. Professor Snape has sworn to never teach you in it again, so the torch has been passed to me." She intimated a seat. "Sit," she ordered.  
  
Harry followed her finger, and noticed a large bowl-like thing sitting on the middle of the desk. His heart seemed to skip a beat. It was the pensieve. That meant only one thing: Occlumency. "A-are we going to...use that?" Harry asked, confused.  
  
Aislinn turned from the window. "No. You will not be using that." She waited a moment. "I told you to sit, boyo."  
  
Harry hurried to a seat, and Aislinn strode to the other one directly across from him. "Headmaster Dumbledore has asked me to continue your lessons in Occlumency, and since I seem to be the only witch in this bloody school that has the talent, I fear I must do it." She must have noticed the grimace on Harry's face, for she added, "Believe me, I don't want to do it either. Since you're convinced I'm a Death Eater, we might be a bit biased in this examination. But my mind wanders. Let us return to the topic at hand."  
  
Harry waited. If this were to be anything like last year, Aislinn would pull out her worst thoughts to put into the pensieve, while Harry was stuck with all the unpleasant ones free for the taking. He sighed. "I guess it has to be done, Professor."  
  
O'Flannery screwed up her face. "Indeed, it must be done. Now, Dumbledore let me borrow his pensieve for storing my unpleasant thoughts, but I don't believe it's fair for me to get rid of mine and you have to keep yours. Thus, I shall not be using it either." She pushed it out of the way. Harry stared at her incredulously. She smiled a thin-lipped smile, pulling her hair back in a deft movement. "Now you know how the process works. I'd give you an outline of what I will be doing to your head, but it will be no different than what Professor Snape tried." She paused as if considering something. "Except for the asinine and condescending comments, of course."  
  
Against his will, he found himself smiling. As much as he hated to admit it, she was a very good instructor and a fairly easy-going person, despite her obvious attachment to the Death Eaters.  
  
Aislinn cleared her throat. "I expect to find harsh memories. You should not be afraid, as I have many as well. As for the Death Eater incident, I trust you shall find out soon enough." Professor O'Flannery took a deep breath. "Now, get ready."  
  
Harry tensed his fists. I don't want to know. I don't want to know...  
  
"One."  
  
He took a deep breath. I don't want her inside my head. I don't want her to know I feel akin to her...  
  
"Two."  
  
I don't know what to say. I should stop this now...I don't need it...I-  
  
"Three. Legilimens!"  
  
The force of Aislinn's intrusion into his thoughts flung him against the back of his chair. The nasty memory of Dudley forcing him into the toilet resurfaced, as did the memories of the constant beatings he had suffered at his brutal cousin's hands. He struggled to push his Professor out of his head, casting the Patronus charm indirectly. Suddenly, the presence in his head was gone.  
  
She was still sitting across from him, her arms crossed over her chest. She stared into his eyes; her gaze bored into his. "Empty yourself, Harry. Forget emotion ever existed."  
  
He nodded and clenched his fists again.  
  
"Ready? Well then, legilimens!"  
  
There was that uncomfortable feeling in his head again, as though someone was sifting through his thoughts and selecting the ones they thought would be most humiliating. Professor Snape and his worst memory. Kissing Cho Chang underneath the mistletoe. Harry summoned all of his will. "Protego!" he shouted.  
  
Professor O'Flannery's eyes widened. Thoughts floated through Harry's head; he knew they were hers. A young black-haired girl was being raped forcefully as a group looked on. The same girl, a few years older, tied to a post and being whipped. Remus Lupin's face floated in the miasma. A young looking Aislinn O'Flannery was having the Chinese character tattooed on her finger.  
  
Harry let go of his concentration. He stared at her, horrified. Aislinn was sinking into her chair, her arms hugging her own body as if she was trying to hold herself together. Unshed tears shone in her eyes, and she blinked as if she was trying to clear them. "Was that...you?" asked Harry, incredulous.  
  
"Can y' see now why I'm not a Death Eater?" Her voice was hoarse and low, and the fake English accent had slipped again. "They were th' ones who did that t' me," she spat out. It was obvious she was trying not to cry.  
  
Before he knew was he was doing, Harry had stood and was wrapping his arms around his Professor. She actually seemed as shocked as he, but she relaxed into his arms and rested her head on his shoulder. She sniffled a little, and then fell silent, barely even breathing.  
  
"Thank ye," was all she said after a moment's repose.  
  
"You're welcome." It took Harry a second before he added the obligatory "Professor." He released her from the hug and looked at her. She resembled a lost child rather than a teacher. He pointed to her finger. "What does it mean?" he asked.  
  
Aislinn smiled, adopting her false accent again. "It means 'Persevere.' I chose it for obvious reasons. It's what I do."  
  
"I'm sorry I ever doubted you," Harry said, genuinely sincere. "I figured with your family, you would be, you know, a-"  
  
Professor O'Flannery cut him off. "It's perfectly all right, child. I can understand how anyone who's been through what you have would be suspicious." She tilted her head and gazed at him. "You're not the first that has accused me of the same. Why else do you think I quit working for the Ministry?" A small smile played on her features as she wiped the rest of the dampness from the corners of her eyes. She shook her head, and stood. "That will be all for tonight. Hopefully tomorrow's lesson will be a bit more pleasant."  
  
Harry turned to leave, but something made him turn back around. "Professor?" he asked. Aislinn cocked an eyebrow. "If you don't mind, could I ask you things about being an Auror? It's what I've wanted to do for a good while now."  
  
She nodded. "Please, Harry. Call me Aislinn, and of course." She nodded to him in a gesture of farewell, and Harry turned away from her, both embarrassed and elated.  
  
Snape was sitting in an overstuffed armchair to the right of Dumbledore, watching the assembled people out of the corner of his eye. He pretended not to notice when Aislinn O'Flannery glided through the door, looking sheepish and scared. This would be her first meeting; it made complete sense. If Severus had his way, she would be barred from them permanently, but no one ever asked his opinion. O'Flannery was a threat, and he would see to it that she was disposed of. Snape popped his knuckles unconsciously, and several of the people winced. Too bad for them.  
  
Dumbledore stood. The gathering fell silent as he raised his hands, and he smiled. "So glad to see you all tonight." Snape wanted to roll his eyes. The formality and friendliness almost sickened him sometimes. Didn't they realize they lived in dangerous times? "I would like to take this moment to introduce they newest member of the Order, Aislinn O'Flannery. You may have heard of her based on her work at the Ministry of Magic, or the reinstatement of the Tuatha de Dannan." Every eye turned back to survey the woman sheepishly standing at the back of the group. She smiled sadly. Severus was not surprised at all to see her rubbing the tattoo.  
  
Snape noticed several of the Aurors present suddenly looked wary. In fact, upon surveying the crowd, he saw that many of those gathered looked angry, or betrayed.  
  
Dumbledore's voice continued to rumble, but Snape allowed his mind to wander. He glanced at each face, mentally marking whoever was present. There was one glaring absence: Sirius Black was not in the room. Sirius Black would never enter the room again. Severus was sad to say he did not mind the death of Black; in fact it seemed to come as a relief. No one would oppose his role in the order anymore, nor would there always be the nagging voice in the back of the crowd accusing him for Death Eater activities. He heard a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that was exactly what he was doing with Aislinn O'Flannery, but he ignored it. She deserves it. There's no doubt she is who she was born to be. Snape relaxed back into his chair, content with thinking his own thoughts, but the sound of Dumbledore's voice brought him out of his reverie.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
Snape looked up, aggravated at being caught unawares. "Yes, Headmaster?" he asked, hoping for a prompt.  
  
"I was asking if you would mind telling the Order what happened between you and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when you were summoned." Dumbledore fixed him with a piercing gaze.  
  
Snape smiled a thin, malicious smile. "Of course, Headmaster." He stood, facing the gathered group with severity. "I was summoned three days ago into," he winced, "Voldemort's presence. I was told one thing, and one thing only. It was to make sure nothing happened to her." He stressed the word, pointing his finger right at Aislinn O'Flannery's heart.  
  
All heads turned to stare at her, and a rogue voice from the crowd called out, "No surprise." Other voices echoed the sentiment. Aislinn backed into a corner, a feral and threatened look on her face.  
  
Snape continued. "He said she was a controversy among his followers, and she must not be harmed. She must be kept safe, as if she was some important flower." The accusatory tone in his voice rose; he had to fight to keep it down.  
  
Aislinn's eyes were wide and scared. "I-It's not what you think. I'm not-I swear." She narrowed her gaze right at Severus. "I am not a Death Eater."  
  
Tonks, another Auror, stepped forward. "You might not be, Miss O'Flannery, but your background is against you."  
  
Dumbledore's loud voice rumbled over the crowd. "Enough! I called you here to have a meeting, not a childish argument. Aislinn is in my complete confidence; her background might be dark but she is not determined by her parentage. So let it be." He fixed everyone with a stern gaze. "Aislinn?"  
  
She straightened from the corner, her eyes large and filled with tears. "I thank you, Albus, for your hospitality. It has been a pleasure, believe me, but I think the atmosphere of this..." she paused, considering her words. "...Gathering has become less friendly. I believe I will take my leave of you." She dipped a quick curtsy, and turned to exit.  
  
"We will take care of you, dear," was all Dumbledore said as she slammed the door behind her.  
  
Snape looked abashed, if that was at all possible. He had not meant to cause her such visible agitation, but it seemed to give him the lead in his own private investigation. Her vehemence had to mean something. He turned back to the Order of the Phoenix, spreading his hands. "That was all Voldemort said to me. 'Keep her safe. Let no one touch her.' I will let you all draw your own conclusions." He sat, interlocking his fingers and resting his hands on his lap. Let her cry. He would not be moved.  
  
Lupin's eyes stared hard into his. "This is ridiculous." He was livid. "Act like the adults you are, not children." Remus faced Dumbledore, saying, "I believe I will leave, too. My friend," he stressed the word, "needs comfort." He opened the door, nodding his head in farewell. Only Snape did not nod back.  
  
Aislinn ran from the room, sobbing. It had not been fair. She had no chance to defend herself against the accusations. Everyone except Dumbledore was already convinced. She had not known Kingsley or Tonks was in the Order. What hurt her most, though, was that Remus, her own dear Remus, had done nothing. He merely stood back and let her take the abuse, abuse she had taken all her life.  
  
Footsteps behind her made her slow. She flattened herself into a doorway, hoping to let them pass so she could continue her crying in peace. She bit her bottom lip, trying to keep it from trembling. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, and a second later felt warm arms encircle her. She collapsed against them and buried her nose into Lupin's shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed.  
  
"No, darling, I'm sorry. I let them hurt you. I let them think that you were someone you weren't." His voice was soft and comforting. "Come on. I left to be with you, Aislinn."  
  
Aislinn looked at him through her tears. "Go raibh math agat," she muttered, wiping her nose against his shirt. He chuckled.  
  
"I said I was here to comfort you, not be used a tissue."  
  
"Sorry," she sobbed. She felt herself be lifted, and put her arms around his neck. As he carried her to her room she cried hard. Her body trembled with the force of the sobs, and a low moan of anguish escaped her throat. Remus shushed her, and she buried her head once again into his shoulder, crying quietly.  
  
"What Severus did was wrong," Remus muttered, seemingly to himself. "That bastard, he just never gives up." Remus sighed. "Unward your door, will you?"  
  
Aislinn snapped twice and Remus opened the door, setting his friend on her feet. Aislinn faced the window, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. "I dinnae know what I want anymore, darlin'. Do I want t' be here, or back i' th' flat?" She shrugged her shoulders and wiped the remaining tears from her face. "Ye said I owed y' a song."  
  
"Aislinn, you're in no state to sing to me." Remus put his hands on his hips and tried to look stern.  
  
She glared right back at him. "I can look stern too, Remus. An' yeer not going t' stop me."  
  
Lupin threw up his hands. "Fine! Fine, sing me a song if you're so intent to do so. Don't blame me when you sound like shit, okay? I swear, sometimes you act just like a little girl."  
  
Aislinn stuck out her bottom lip at him, imitating a pouty child. "Okay, Mr. Grumpy." She took two long strides and grabbed her acoustic guitar, and carried it out the door. She turned back to face Lupin when he didn't follow. "Are ye comin' or not?"  
  
"I-I thought you were playing it in here?" Remus raised a quizzical eyebrow.  
  
Aislinn grinned wickedly and shook her head. "If they're going t' bother me, I'll bother them. We're goin' outside."  
  
Lupin sighed and followed her, moving his lips as if he was praying for patience.  
  
The air outside was biting and cold, but Aislinn didn't even seem to notice. Remus hugged his threadbare robes tighter around him, but Aislinn's billowed behind her. All in all she made an imposing figure silhouetted against the castle. Almost six feet tall and determined, she held her guitar like a woman on a mission. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and strands blew free as a rogue gust of wind rose from the lake. Her pale skin was alabaster white in the moonlight.  
  
Remus stared at her, entranced. She had always had some ethereal quality to her, as if she had stepped out of a fairytale. She acted recklessly sometimes, but she made up for it in sound good sense. He only wished he could love her the way she needed to be loved. He shook his head as he realized she would probably never have that comfort.  
  
Aislinn stopped underneath a window and put the guitar-strap around her shoulders. A few strums across the strings proved the instrument was tuned. She cleared her throat and cracked her knuckles, then placed her thin fingertips on the fingerboard. To Remus' eyes she straightened visibly, becoming even more regal-looking. If that was possible, or course.  
  
"Heaven bent to take my hand and lead me through the fire. Be the long awaited answer to a long and painful fight." Her voice was clear and beautiful, its roughness banished as she raised it in song. Lupin looked at her, entranced. He had never heard this song before; she must have written it recently. "Truth be told I've tried my best, but somewhere along the way I got caught up in all there was to offer and the cost was so much more than I could bear."  
  
Remus noticed some of the windows had opened, and various faces were leaning out into the darkness to get a better glimpse of the person singing. Aislinn continued, oblivious of the audience.  
  
"Though I've tried, I've fallen... I have sunk so low, I have messed up, better I should know. So don't come round here and tell me I told you so..." Her fingers wavered slightly on the strings, but it couldn't be noticed in the tune. Lupin thought he heard her sniffle a bit, although he could see no visible tears on her cheeks.  
  
"We all begin with good intent, love was raw and young. We believed that we could change ourselves; the past could be undone. But we carry on our backs the burden time always reveals: the lonely light of morning, in the wound that would not heal. It's the bitter taste of losing everything that I have held so dear." She opened her eyes and turned them upwards to the stars. The wind whipped her hair around. "Though I've tried, I've fallen... I have sunk so low, I have messed up, better I should know. So don't come round here and tell me I told you so..."  
  
Now Lupin could see the unshed tears shining in her eyes, but her voice held strong. It was pure hell to see her in anguish, but he realized he could do nothing for her. Music was her relaxant and her medication. She might cry, but it was just her remembering, and being caught up in the melody of the song she played. Tears seeped from the corner of her eyes as she closed them, putting all the emotion she possessed into the next verse.  
  
"Heaven bent to take my hand, nowhere left to turn. I'm lost to those I thought were friends, to everyone I know. Oh, they turned their heads embarrassed, and pretend that they don't see, but it's one missed step you'll slip before you know it, and there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed. Though I've tried, I've fallen... I have sunk so low, I have messed up, better I should know. So don't come round here and tell me I told you so..."  
  
The final notes of her guitar faded on the wind as Aislinn released her grip on the fingerboard and opened her eyes again. The song was over, and Remus Lupin shook his head to clear away the effects of her auditory trance upon him. It was then Aislinn seemed to notice people were watching her. She blushed, the faint traces of tears on her cheeks glittering in the light that spilled from open windows. She grinned, abashed, and gave a deep bow. Applause broke out, and O'Flannery blushed again. She ran her eyes over the crowd, noting they were mostly students who had been taken away from their studies by the odd sound of music being played on a cold winter night.  
  
Suddenly, her gaze stopped. Several members of the Order had poked their heads out, looking confused. Only Snape, with his long fingers clutching the window sash, looked upset. He glared at her, his eyes black as coal and twice as menacing. A frown was etched on his features, and in the harsh shadows she could have sworn he looked like the devil. She nudged Lupin, and headed towards the doors. She had to escape that angry glare, demon-like and full of malice.  
  
Harry Potter trudged his way up the stairs, weighted down with guilt. He had already accused her without even knowing who she was or where she came from. He had thought of her as an evil person, but in reality she was a young woman who had been wronged. Her life is much like mine, he thought dejectedly.  
  
A passel of first years rushed by him, taking advantage of the brief time they had before they were required to be in their respective Houses. Harry let them pass, staring longingly at them as they turned a corner. He remembered when he was that young. He had just come to Hogwarts, completely ignorant of any wizard tradition, but he had to learn fast. It was amazing some lessons didn't take.  
  
Time after time he had learned not to judge people by their outward looks and background. Aislinn O'Flannery was a perfect example. She was plain looking, but a light in her eyes showed she was kind. Harry wished he could have gone on that alone, rather than searching into her background and messing things up.  
  
God, I'm a bloody idiot! Harry hit himself on the forehead, still cursing his bad judgment. That was the reason for the fight in the kitchen. It wasn't her professed duty to Voldemort that kept her quiet, but the abuse she suffered as a child at the hands of Death Eaters.  
  
Something tugged at the back of Harry's mind. He let the thought through, pondering over it. Had her parents somehow given her up? No father or mother, no matter how cruel, could do that to a child. He had been treated badly by the Dursley's, but at least he has clothes on his back and a room to sleep in. At least he hadn't been beaten. He made a mental note to ask her about it the next time they had a heart-to-heart chat.  
  
One thing about that night gladdened Harry's heavy soul. Professor O'Flannery had promised to answer his questions about becoming an Auror! He thought he had seen Tonks earlier that night, but once he turned back around to look, she was gone. He had shrugged his shoulders and continued on his way to dinner, where, much to his dismay, he found Aislinn missing. Dumbledore looked surprised as well; it was as if something unexpected had happened.  
  
He spoke the password to the Fat Lady, not even really thinking about what he was doing. The Gryffindor common room was filled with the usual suspects, whom were either lounging about chatting or doing homework. Harry smiled at Hermione, who smiled back and nudged Ron. Ron had just waved when the sound of something beautiful drifted past the open window. All talking ceased.  
  
"It's-It's music!" exclaimed a confused Dean Thomas.  
  
Harry ran to the window, searching the dark night for a sign of where the sound emanated from. He squinted his eyes, and was able to make out two figures about a hundred yards away, standing tall in the surrounding darkness. Both were tall and thin, but one had the definite broad shoulders of a man. The other one was obscured; all Harry could make out was that it had pale skin. He pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, and continued to squint. The unsexed figure was holding a guitar, playing a few tenuous notes.  
  
By now a crowd had gathered at the windows, leaning their heads out in order to get a better look. All of a sudden a real melody began, and a familiar voice began singing. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione incredulously. The voice was pure and beautiful, quite unlike the harsh, drunken tones they had heard and the club that night. It was obvious their professor could carry a tune, but neither of them had ever imagined she could sing that well. Out of that plain face came the most extraordinary voice.  
  
Harry found himself grinning. The song was sad, and the other figure's identity was unclear, but Aislinn O'Flannery's song took his mind away from his misjudging of her, and made it seem that everything between them would eventually be reconciled. 


	6. Is go Minic a Ghortaíonn an Fhírinne Lán

I would like to warn anyone that reads this chapter that it contains some references dealing with rape and child abuse. If anyone is disturbed by this, I suggest not to read it.  
  
He was staring at her back again, horrified. Several long scars traced their way from her lower back to her shoulders, and several small ones crisscrossed her spine like a chain-link fence. Most of it was tattooed over, as if to hide the old wounds. Severus cringed. There was pain there, and anger. Someone had done that to her...  
  
The scene faded. Instead of a woman's back, an old shield now hung in front of his face. His own distorted reflection stared back at him, his face twisted demonically in the silver. It was the same inscription that he had seen so many times before. Reathaí Meán Oíche is ea an Bás. What did it mean? What did all this mean? Snape rubbed his chin and turned away from the shield. Where was this place? He walked to a window, gazing outside, trying to regain a sense of balance. The lawn was clipped, and the gardens manicured with care. Obviously it was a wealthy manor of some kind, but he couldn't put a finger on the location.  
  
Deep down inside he knew this as a dream, but for some odd reason he could not wake up. Everything about it just seemed so, well, real. He could smell the varnish used to keep the furniture oiled, as well as the stale scent in the air. It was as if no one had lived here in a while. That's impossible, he told himself, looking around. Everything was well kept and neat. There was almost no dust on tabletops, and the hardwood floors were waxed and shiny.  
  
Snape thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head to catch whatever it was, it was gone. He shook his head, passing it off as just another anomaly in this already strange dream. He wanted to wake up. His dreams in general were dark and violent; it might look peaceful here now, but there was no doubt someone would die before it was through. Maybe if I walk for a while it will disappear, he thought, and began his way towards what he took to be the kitchen.  
  
It was indeed the kitchen, and he found Aislinn standing at the stove, stirring a pot of something. His surprise melted away almost at once, a feeling that unsettled him. He was supposed to be wary of her, not think of her as a friend! However, his thoughts changed abruptly when she turned to face him. The sockets where her eyes should be were empty and black, and rivulets of blood ran down her cheeks, looking eerily like sanguine tears. Her neck was slashed across the windpipe and vocal cords; Severus could see the musculature in the gash.  
  
He backed away, horrified. She took a step toward him, reaching out her hands as if wanting to be picked up. "Get away from me!" His voice was dry with fear. He could barely speak.  
  
"Severus. They did this to me. They took my eyes, Severus! My eyes!" She tripped and fell, busting her chin on the polished wood of the floor. She raised her body, spitting out three teeth in a shower of bloody saliva. "Severus, please." Blood bubbled between her lips, and she gagged. Snape continued to retreat, and Aislinn continued to follow, pleading.  
  
Snape found himself pinned against a wall. He flattened himself out as much as possible, praying to a god he didn't believe in for some kind of way out. He closed his eyes in a frightened wince, hoping when he opened them there would be only darkness. He could feel the tips of Aislinn's fingers brushing against his face; they were cold and slimy. Something wet brushed against his cheek, leaving a sticky feeling and metallic smell. Then there was only pain as the dagger slid into his heart.  
  
Snape awoke with a shout, gripping his chest as though he had really been stabbed. The nightshirt he was wearing was bathed in sweat, but his body felt cold. He rubbed his cheek involuntarily. It was dry. Damn, he though angrily as he got to his feet and cast the curtains surrounding his bed aside. The air was cold; his breath made little foggy patterns in the air as he exhaled. On an impulse he stripped off his nightshirt, running his hands over his thin chest, searching for a puncture wound. He found nothing, so he slipped the shirt back on. The brandy decanter on the table sparkled tantalizingly, and Severus happily partook.  
  
The strong liquor burned the back of his throat, but at least it scalded away the faint smell of blood that still lingered in his nostrils. He was more confused than afraid, after all most dreams had some kind of hidden subconscious meaning. It was only natural that Aislinn, the source of his daily consternation, would appear, but without eyes? And with her throat slashed? He could come up with thousands of possible ideas, but none seemed to make any sense. Suddenly, Snape realized what he was doing. He slapped himself on the forehead, cursing. I'm starting to sound like Trelawney, he thought dejectedly. Another snifter of brandy went down his throat. This time it didn't burn.  
  
He had to get a confession out of her somehow. As he thought he unlocked a cabinet door, pulling out a tiny vial and drinking about half. He chased it down with more liquor, and then crawled back into bed. Hopefully the dreamless sleep concoction would work; he couldn't stand any more of those horrid dreams. He could feel sleep tickling at his faculties, and he relaxed against the pillow, hoping to embrace the one pure thing left to him. Just before he surrendered, a thought occurred to him in one word: Veritaserum. "That's nice," Severus mumbled, slipping into the darkness of a dreamless night.  
  
Severus rose before dawn had even touched the sky. He stretched, shaking his head to chase away the tired cloudiness from his mind, and tossed back another glass of brandy. The decanter was less than half full; it had been filled to the brim two days earlier. Severus wrinkled his nose as he gazed at the jar. I do not have a drinking problem, he mused to himself. As much as he hated to admit, he had been drinking more and more lately. It would have to stop if he wanted to get anything worthwhile done.  
  
He stripped off his nightshirt in the bathroom, gazing in the mirror at his chest. There was no blood, no wound, nothing that would intimate at assassination attempts. But that dream... It was so fresh in his head. He could still smell the blood; still feel its wet stickiness. Aislinn's mutilated face lurked behind his eyelids. He could still recall the pleading note to her voice as she begged for help, and he had denied her. I will continue to deny her, he told himself angrily, scowling at his reflection. A shower would clear away the dreams from his head, and hopefully steel him for another day of teaching.  
  
He pinned her against the wall, his mouth searching hers out. They kissed hungrily; their hands pulled at each other's robes and clothes, desperately seeking. She let his hands run over her belly, between her thighs, down her legs. She whimpered softly. She hadn't felt this way for a man in years, and her current choice confused her as well as excited her. Their hate fueled their passion. She gasped as he bit her neck, piercing the skin slightly. "Severus," she cooed, straining against him, trembling...  
  
Her eyes shot open. The sheets were twisted around her legs; the light of dawn filtered through open windows onto her yellow silk chemise. Aislinn shivered, disgusted. How could she have even dreamed about that? It was hideous, frightening, Snape was a monster and a fool.  
  
Almost at the same time she sighed, wishing the dream would go on. Truth was, she was lonely. Lupin had left sometime the previous night, leaving her almost friendless. His support though, was invaluable. Snape's accusations had cut her, and cut her deep, and his smile was just what she had needed. However, now he was on his way to Spain-probably already there-and she was still at Hogwarts with a hateful Potions master.  
  
She turned over, burying her head in her pillow. Something warm brushed up against her ear, and sneezed in her hair. Aislinn sat bolt upright, scowling down at the cat. "Bo, that's disgusting," she told him. The cat merely stared at her with placid eyes. She sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He purred contentedly, working his claws into her bed sheets. The cat is a good thing, she thought, smiling. Yankee Doodle was probably off somewhere hunting, so she couldn't close the windows. Fortunately it was not slated to rain that day, so she could probably leave the windows open all day.  
  
Aislinn rose and walked into the bathroom, stripping off her chemise and tossing it onto the floor. She fingered the tattoos ringing her arms, and smiled. They had not hurt. They were beautiful; two black bands of Celtic knots to give her strength. Not that they would really work. It was merely the premise. The tattoo on her middle finger had hurt much more, but a little pain had never really bothered her. It was just a part of being an O'Flannery.  
  
The steam of the bath chased the memory of sleep from her head, and with it the dream she had had. The trick is realizing it is just a dream, thought Aislinn. Nothing more than images in your mind of a subconscious thought or feeling. But then why had her subconscious tricked her into kissing Severus Snape? Some questions were better left unanswered.  
  
Already the day promised to be a long one, and it was not yet eight o'clock. With a sigh Aislinn realized she would be late for breakfast, and probably go without one. Classes started at nine, so she had a while to prepare herself for the daily lesson. Another night of Occlumency would add to her stress. She had come to a completely different realization about Harry. She had originally believed he was a foolish, spoiled child that enjoyed poking his nose where it didn't belong, much like Draco. However, she had learned Harry Potter had lived a life much like hers: scorned by relatives and abandoned early in life. He, too, had an abusive sibling.  
  
She hummed a snatch of a song as she toweled herself off. Another song had been coming to her in bits. She felt as though she was finally getting her muse back, which made her smile. At least she was doing something right. Her hair hung in wet strands as she looked down at her naked body, running her hands over her hips. She had always been thin, almost unhealthily so, but she got all her essential vitamins, so she wasn't concerned. If she lost any more weight, though, something would have to be done about that. She had always intimidated men; whether it was her height or her attitude wasn't clear. Remus seemed to be the only man she connected on a deep personal level with. There was the occasional boyfriend or platonic relationship, but most men seemed wary whenever they were around her. Then, there were those who were just plain nasty. Men like Snape.  
  
She wrapped her hair in a towel, planning to dry it later. She began to go through her morning routine of washing and dressing, and then putting on a bit of makeup to hide tired eyes. Actually, she had been sleeping very well lately. Her dreams had become idyllic, and sometimes downright licentious. Dreams like those had not come in a long time. She half- wondered what they were all about. Various people, various places, but always the same result. She would wake up shuddering in bed, confused and elated at the same time.  
  
Aislinn finished using the towel and hung it up. With three twists she put her hair up in a tight bun and secured it with several pins. Her hair had grown; it was touching her shoulders now. She made a mental note to make a trip into London on the coming Saturday. Her band mates had replied to her post and set a date for a practice. Since there was no way they could possibly come to Hogwarts, she would go to them. She doubted she would even be missed. It would be a chance for her to loosen up and get out of the teacher's robes, to get back to life she used to lead.  
  
She had known each member personally for years. She had met Rob first when she pushed him down the stairs during her seventh year at Hogwarts. He had been a Gryffindor, and thought it was okay to bother Aislinn, the "silent Slytherin," as she was called. He had broken both arms; she had three months of detention. They had been friends ever since. Even when she had gone off to live as a Muggle, they stayed in touch, and he eventually introduced her to Geoff de Villiers, the son of a prominent French merchant and his English wife. Geoff had graduated from Beauxbatons, and had met Rob through a mutual friend.  
  
As it turned out, the two men had decided to form a band. Rob played the drums; Geoff was skilled with a bass guitar. They had come to Aislinn, asking if she knew a guitar player who would be interested. She volunteered immediately. At first they had been skeptical, but after a practice or two they both accepted her into the band, which they had named Murdock. That was her humble beginnings in the world of music stardom. They had gone on to play Muggle clubs throughout England and France; they even played two nights in Dublin. As soon as a club opened in Diagon Alley, they had started performing for a more magical crowd. If the Weird Sisters could do it, so could they.  
  
Aislinn eyed her clock dreamily, but started when she realized it was almost nine. "Léan air!" she groaned, and grabbed an armful of lesson plans and notes before scurrying out the door, barely remembering to set the wards.  
  
The first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were fidgety that morning, and she had to dock fifteen points from each house because of their lack of attentiveness. She hated doing that, but if it must be done, then let it be. The sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors were better, although not by much. She found herself fervently hoping for lunch. It came and went, and Aislinn continued the day, doing the best she could do not to throw down her books and quit on the spot.  
  
The day seemed long to Harry. Potions crawled by, and even Defense Against the Dark Arts didn't have the same spark it normally did. He watched Aislinn out of the corner of his eye the entire class; she seemed tired, if not downright gloomy. Her patience seemed to be wearing thin, and it made Harry wonder what else had happened last night. She did manage to flash a quick smile in his direction before turning to tell Malfoy off for harassing some other poor student. At least she was no longer bitter.  
  
Harry's doubt of his professor's associations had been driven from his mind. Let Seamus think what he would, but Harry now stood firm in his conviction. Aislinn O'Flannery had been an abused child and an insecure young adult, but was now a capable, talented woman. As odd as it seemed to him, Harry was not at all worried about the second approaching Occlumency lesson. In fact, he was ready to give it another try. It was better now that Snape wasn't teaching him, and Harry was no longer afraid of hiding his memories from a teacher he hated.  
  
He had noticed the way Snape glared at her during meals. There was a deep-seated animosity there; one that Harry didn't quite understand. Given, Snape didn't get along with most teachers, notable McGonagall, but at least he managed to keep an air of professionalism around them. With Aislinn, any trace of civility was gone. It was just pure hate and suspicion. He had felt that way before. Surely he couldn't believe she was a Death Eater...  
  
A nagging voice in Harry's head reminded him that up until last night, he had thought the same. He chased away the thought angrily. It's not that way anymore, he screamed inwardly.  
  
As Harry stepped into the Great Hall, his eyes went automatically to where Ron and Hermione were sitting. They both waved to him, and his eyes traveled up to the professor's table. Aislinn was there, chatting happily with Professor Sprout. Snape was staring in his clandestine manner. That was nothing new. Harry waved back to his friends after a moment, smiling. At least they were fairly unpredictable.  
  
As he sat at the table Ron gestured with his head up towards the professor's table. "What do you think is up with them?" he asked, obviously meaning Snape and O'Flannery.  
  
"They hate each other. Isn't it obvious?" answered Hermione, grimacing.  
  
Harry shrugged. "It has something to do about her family and his, well, his background as a Death Eater, I guess. I'm not really sure," he lied. He was more than one hundred percent sure, but after his earlier faux pas, he wasn't about to make another one.  
  
"Personally, I think Professor O'Flannery is wonderful," said Hermione. "I wish you hadn't antagonized her in class yesterday. She's obviously brilliant. I've heard that she speaks about fifteen languages fluently." Hermione shook her head self importantly, and smirked.  
  
Ron slapped his forehead. "Harry, mate, I forgot entirely! How was detention last night?"  
  
Harry sighed. This was the question he had been avoiding like the plague. "It went well, actually. You'll never guess what Dumbledore has dragged me into again." He waited for a while before continuing. "Occlumency. But it's not Snape teaching it, so I feel a little bit better about it."  
  
Both Ron and Hermione looked stunned. Ron's mouth was hanging open. "So he had O'Flannery the Death Eater teach you?" he asked.  
  
"Well, there's something about that. She's not a Death Eater."  
  
"I told you," Hermione said haughtily. "Dumbledore would never hire a Death Eater. Not after what happened with Quirrel and Moody."  
  
Ron looked skeptical. "People can slip through the cracks easily, Hermione. Anyway, Harry, how did you find out?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Using the shielding charm we learned last year on our own. I saw some things in her head I wish I wouldn't have seen."  
  
"Like what?" asked Ron.  
  
"I'd rather not tell you, if you don't mind. It's a bit private."  
  
Ron chuckled. "Does she want your body or something?"  
  
"Ron!" chided Hermione.  
  
Harry smiled sadly. "No. I just saw what happened to her at the hands of Death Eaters. It wasn't pretty, although it's left me with more questions than answers."  
  
Hermione was nodding her head. Ron just sat there with a thoughtful look on his face. "I think she's wonderful," mumbled Hermione. "She's one Defense teacher I wouldn't want to see leave."  
  
Harry agreed completely. His lessons with O'Flannery might just be an asset worth having.  
  
Snape was waiting in the sitting room of his chambers, pacing nervously. He was about to take a step in deception he thought he would never resort to using on a coworker. However, he had to be sure about her background, and this way was almost guaranteed to provide him with answers. He threw himself down on the couch, fidgeting. He wasn't quite sure if she would come. She had to be suspicious. After all, he had been cruel to her up until that night, and his sudden change in moods would cause almost anyone to second guess his actions.  
  
He had approached her after dinner, using the pretense of Order business to arrange a meeting. It would just be him and her, he had said, stressing the need for absolute secrecy. Dumbledore would be informed after the meeting had taken place. She had agreed after only a moment of contemplation, no doubt believing that despite his posturing, that he was harmless. Well he had something to show her!  
  
They would be meeting in his chambers around eight thirty. Snape checked his preparations quickly. One could never be too prepared. The two cups of coffee were arranged on a table, with cream and sugar nearby. The veritaserum had already been added to one cup, the cup intended for Aislinn O'Flannery. He smiled evilly to himself. If it hadn't been for a sleepless night, he would have never thought of the idea. At least something had to be said for insomnia.  
  
A knock on the door caused him to start. He rose quickly, and in three steps opened the door to see a placid Aislinn O'Flannery staring him in the face. He nodded a hello and beckoned her in. He pushed the door shut behind her as she settled herself on the couch.  
  
"Severus," she began, "I don't know why you called me here, but I must say I was less than thrilled in coming."  
  
"I can understand. I have been rather terse with you lately, but I am more than sure you know the reason behind it."  
  
She nodded. "I can guess."  
  
Snape sat, pressing his fingertips together in a steeple. "I fear I must address that. I am, to say the least, a bit suspicious of your family heritage, Miss O'Flannery, but I might be willing to overlook it if you can somehow prove you're not affiliated with Voldemort."  
  
Aislinn huffed. "I shouldn't have to prove myself to you, Severus Snape." A quick look at her face told Snape she was offended, but he wouldn't let that stop him now.  
  
"I know you're averse. Believe me, I would feel the same if I were in your position. However, you absolutely must understand I am only doing this for my personal conviction, as well as that of the Order. I saw how badly you were received last night."  
  
"It was your doing, Snape."  
  
Snape spread his hands wide in a gesture of well meaning. "Miss O'Flannery, I merely told what I had seen. If it may help, though, I am sorry."  
  
Aislinn sat for a while as if considering. "Apology accepted, Severus. Now what is it in you want?"  
  
Snape inwardly shouted for joy. Everything was going perfectly. "Coffee?" he asked, nodding to the cup closest to her. She raised an eyebrow and reached for the sugar. Snape poured a bit of cream into his own, untouched cup. As Aislinn reached for it her fingers brushed his wrist, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Her hands were freezing.  
  
She smiled at him as she took her first sip. "Thank you," she mumbled. "Now, what was it that you wanted?"  
  
Snape shrugged. "Order business really. As a spy for the Order, I need to know what it is you intend to do with your skills."  
  
Aislinn contemplated a bit, drinking the drugged coffee. "I'm not really sure as of yet. I've thought about being a Muggle correspondent. After all, I did spend several years living as one."  
  
Snape nodded. "I see. If you're interested in spying on Voldemort, we'd probably have to get you a disguise. No doubt he would recognize you as an O'Flannery otherwise."  
  
"Yes. Yes, of course," Aislinn nodded sleepily. The potion was taking effect. "I look so much like my father." Her eyes closed momentarily, and her head lolled to one side. She took a deep swig of the coffee, finishing the cup.  
  
Severus waited. In a few minutes she would completely under his control. This forced niceness made him want to vomit. She was an object he loathed, and just having her in his chambers was sickening. "With a bit of polyjuice potion I doubt it would be a problem."  
  
"I've been meaning to speak to you about that, Severus. If you remember, you sent ten transforming students into my classroom yesterday."  
  
"I'm very sorry, Miss O'Flannery. You see, there was not enough time for them to fully transform before the bell rang."  
  
O'Flannery nodded. "I unnerstand. I completely unnerstand." She raised her arm halfheartedly. "Severus, did ye put somethin' in th' drink?" was the last thing she said before falling into a stupor.  
  
Severus stood up quickly, pushing her into a reclining position on the couch. Her head lolled to one side; her eyes were open but were blank. Snape grinned. It had worked perfectly. O'Flannery had enough veritaserum in her system to put out an elephant. She would not wake for hours.  
  
He watched her as he finished his coffee, brainstorming on how to proceed. He decided to begin with a simple question. "O'Flannery, who was your father?"  
  
"Alastair Patrick O'Flannery." Her voice had become deeper, rougher. The fake English accent was gone; instead a thick Irish slur replaced it.  
  
"Who was your mother?"  
  
"Bean Mhi Shaughnessy-O'Flannery."  
  
"Where were you born?"  
  
"Saolaíodh in Éirinn mé," she replied. Snape had never heard a language quite like it. He had no idea what it meant.  
  
"Repeat it in English. Where were you born?" he asked, hoping he would get something more useful out of her.  
  
"Ireland," she replied. "In Cork."  
  
"Good. Now, Miss O'Flannery, tell me about your life." Snape sat back. He realized he would probably be there for a long time, but he was willing to sacrifice sleep for answers.  
  
"I am thirty-three years old. I was born in 1969 t' th' O'Flannery's o' Cork. Me fayther was a Death Eater, as was me mum. I have an older brother."  
  
"What is his name?" Snape interrupted.  
  
"Me brother is Richard O'Flannery. I had a sister once."  
  
Once again, Snape felt the need to cut in. "Miss O'Flannery, what happened to your sister?"  
  
Aislinn shuddered. "Me fayther killed 'er. She was twenty."  
  
Snape shuddered. The very thought that a father could do that to his own flesh and blood made him feel queasy. He was beginning to second-guess his reasoning. "Please continue."  
  
"Me family lived outside o' Cork, in Ireland. We were wealthy. Th' children had ev'rything they wanted. My fayther was Voldemort's right hand. He wanted us children t' follow in his footsteps. Richard took a Dark Mark when 'e was thirteen. He went to Durmstrang."  
  
"O'Flannery, did you become a Death Eater?" Snape asked, sitting on the edge of the couch. Now was the moment of truth.  
  
"Nay. Fayther wanted me to, but I didn't. So 'e hurt me." Aislinn blinked, but her eyes were still unfocused. "I was eleven when I started school at 'Ogwarts. I was a Slytherin."  
  
Severus thought back to his own boyhood days. When he was in his seventh year, she would be a first year... He seemed to remember her face. In that first year she had been all smiles, with a lack of understanding about the ways of the world. What had changed? He hadn't known her; in fact he could barely even recall her face. It came in flashes. It startled him he was able to remember a lowly first year. However, he had been Head Boy; no doubt he must have helped her out in the past. "Please continue, O'Flannery."  
  
"Fayther wanted me to take th' Dark Mark when I was thirteen. I didn't. So Fayther took me to a Dark Revel in Cork. Fayther and Richard beat me. I lost three teeth." Aislinn paused. "I was afraid, but I didn't take th' Mark. I went back to school. I was fourteen when me brother's friend raped me. It hurt."  
  
"What was his name?" asked Severus shakily.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy," Aislinn responded.  
  
Snape gasped. Lucius had been a whoremonger, but he had never mentioned anything about rape. Malfoy had always spoken of his conquests as consensual; most girls would have gladly slept with him. "He did no such thing," Snape said under his breath.  
  
"Yes. It was summer. I was in me room. Richard knocked on th' door, sayin' he had a friend who thought I was cute. Richard brought me to his room and locked me in. Lucius was hiding in a corner. He kicked me in the back. I fell. He broke me nose and kicked me i' the stomach. I fought. He hit me. I passed out, an' when I woke I was bleedin' and in pain. He had raped me."  
  
Snape's mind was reeling. It had never occurred to him what he would learn about her life. He had assumed she had been a wealthy girl, spoiled and well treated by a doting father for taking the Dark Mark and serving Voldemort. He stood, reaching for the brandy. He almost thought better of it, but by the time he had made a decision the liquor was already in the snifter. He downed it in a single gulp, and turned to look at the woman on his couch. Her eyes had rolled back in her head; only the whites showed. Her body was rigid, hands crossed over her chest as though she were dead. "Go on," he whispered.  
  
"I told me fayther. Instead of believin' me, Fayther called me a liar and took me to another Revel. They tied me to a pole and whipped me. I still have the scars. That night Fayther watched as five men raped me. I was only fourteen. After that, me fayther took me to Revels every month. It was horrible."  
  
Tears had been pooling in the corners of her eyes, and finally spilled over. Severus had to fight the urge to lean over and wipe them away. He had wanted to know the truth, and now he knew it. He swallowed hard. He was willing to sacrifice her trust and well being for his own. "Did you ever take the Dark Mark, O'Flannery?" he asked.  
  
"Nay. Never. Fayther always hated me for that; ev'ry time I refused I was beaten, raped, or both."  
  
"Jesus," Severus muttered under his breath. This was the price you pay. "Did you go to school?"  
  
"Yes. I never spoke. People were afraid o' me; they all knew about me family. I had a few friends; four other Irish girls. Even me own house hated me. One day they held me down and shaved me head. I slit my wrists that night. Fayther came to school and threatened to take me home. I never tried to kill meself again." Aislinn paused, taking several deep breaths. "I was fifteen when Voldemort was defeated. Me fayther died soon after."  
  
"How did he die?" Snape asked, even though he already knew the answer.  
  
"He was killed by Aurors. I never cried over him." O'Flannery's face was resolute now, although still tear-stained.  
  
"Did the beatings stop, Miss O'Flannery?"  
  
Aislinn shuddered. "Nay, they dinnae. Me brother and mum were still alive, although they kept a low profile. I didn't want t' go home, ever. Mum would beat me. She drove an ice pick through me hand once because I called 'er a right ould bitch. No fecking respect, she said."  
  
Severus gingerly looked at her hand. On the right one he could see a faded pink scar in the middle of her palm, a clear indication she was not lying. "What happened then?"  
  
"I grew up. I got older. The beatings continued at th' hands o' Richard. Mum was caught in London when I was seventeen. She's in Azkaban." Aislinn stopped speaking as she rolled her head to one side. "I 'ope she stays."  
  
"What happened to Richard?" inquired Snape.  
  
"It was the summer between me sixth and seventh years at 'Ogwarts. Richard took me t' London, to an ould friend. I suffered th' worst beatin' of me life that day. Suddenly, a group o' Aurors bust in and took me brother. I was scared, and ran. I was found, an' sent to th' hospital there." O'Flannery's hands twitched nervously. "I was on me own. I went back t' 'Ogwarts, and graduated that year. I knew a boy named Rob; he's as old as I am, and I met a man named Remus Lupin through a mutual friend. We moved in t'gether."  
  
Snape seethed. Fucking Lupin, he thought. So they're hadn't been just a casual relationship between them. "And?" he asked, tersely.  
  
"I started playing guitar. It was me savior, I guess. Those three years after school I did nothin' except work wi' the Tuatha de Dannan. I lived as a Muggle, startin' in 1990. I was 21."  
  
"What happened then? And what's the Tuatha de Dannan?" The word sounded odd in Snape's throat, but he tried to pronounce it the best he could.  
  
O'Flannery sighed. It sounded wistful. "I went t' school in London. Got meself a degree in forensic anthropology and worked in Dublin fer a year or so. Did work on th' Skelligs, too. Moved back t' London and worked for th' British Museum." She paused. "Tuatha de Dannan? Ah, what we were, what we were." She said no more about it, so Snape decided to move on.  
  
"What was your life like at the time? Did you ever decide to become a Death Eater?" Snape would not let go of the tiny shred of hope that she would confess; that this would not all be in vain.  
  
"I dated. Most of me boyfriends were abusive like Fayther. They smacked me around. I felt like everythin' was all me own fault. I wanted t' die. I got tattooed up t' hide th' scars. Former Death Eaters would send me threats. One man found me; kept me locked up for three days. I eventually stole 'is wand; used the Cruciatus. The only time." O'Flannery's body shivered involuntarily. "I was thinkin' about killin' meself again."  
  
Snape leaned forward. "What changed your mind?"  
  
"I met Remus again. Also joined up with two old friends that stuck with me through it all, and we started a band. I'm still in it. Got meself a job at th' Ministry as an Auror two years ago. Ev'ryone assumed I was a Death Eater, so I quit last December. I spoke t' Dumbledore about a job as a Defense teacher. I came to 'Ogwarts again, a better person than I was when I left."  
  
Her story was seemingly over. However, Snape could not resist one final question. "And Severus Snape? What do you think of him?"  
  
Aislinn's slack face contorted. "I hate him. He's cruel. A real bastard. I do nothin' and he hates me for it. He's convinced I'm a Death Eater. I have nothin' to prove t' him."  
  
Snape stood quickly. "You've proved it," he said quietly, and poured himself more brandy. Now all that was left was to wait for O'Flannery to wake. He thought quickly, trying to find a place to put her. His head spun. He would have to carry her to her chambers, hoping no one would see him.  
  
He checked the time. It was ten thirty; he would wait thirty more minutes before getting rid of her. Snape turned and looked at her. She looked ill. Her eyes were still open and rolled back; her mouth was slack. And yet at the same time she looked forlorn and lonely. He couldn't decide if he wanted to get rid of her or hold her close.  
  
Suddenly, the magnitude of what he had done hit him. He spun on his heel, tossing the glass of brandy at the wall. A ragged yell escaped his throat. "Shit!" He had completely betrayed her. Her past was a painful mass of anger and blood, and he had taken that from her against her will. This was yet another reason to hate himself. He had wanted answers. Answers were what he had received.  
  
"Miss O'Flannery, could you ever forgive me?" he asked, his back towards her.  
  
"I don't know. Níhn cinnle in aon chor." She had slipped back into that strange language. Snape glanced over his shoulder. At least he was sure of her allegiance now. But he had learned it at what cost? There was no way he could avoid the accusations she would throw at him. Hopefully they could work it out and go back to how they had been: silent and mutually suspicious. At the moment he didn't know who to hate more. Was it her fault for not telling him outright? Or was it his for taking her past from her by dubious means?  
  
Severus sighed. He could not stand to have her lying there, reminding him of what he had done. Two long steps brought him to her side. He scooped her up gently, noting the fact she weighed almost nothing. Her head sagged backwards, over his arm. Empty eyes stared into his, accusing in their blankness. At eleven o'clock he could sneak through the hallways undetected by students and teachers alike.  
  
The hallways themselves were cold, and seemed to be filled with resounding echoes. Moonlight through thin windows cast eerie shadows on the floor. Occasionally O'Flannery would mutter something unintelligible under her breath, whether it was a curse or a passing thought was unknown.  
  
At long last Snape recognized the approaching door as her chambers. The telltale satyr statue was a reminder of the time she had duped him into listening at her door. Snape grimaced. He hated to be caught unawares in anything. "How do you unlock the door?" he asked roughly.  
  
"I snap me fingers twice." Aislinn's voice sounded hollow.  
  
Snape grunted. "Is there any other way?" he asked. He wasn't about to leave her in the middle of the hallway.  
  
"Yes. Audentes fortuna juvat. It's Latin." The door unlocked, and Snape pushed it open. A raucous scream almost caused him to drop O'Flannery, but he steadied himself when he saw the golden eagle.  
  
"Damn bird," he muttered, and set the woman down on her bed. She would sleep for hours yet, as he should be doing. He turned and exited the room, cursing himself for his own stupidity and curiosity that had damaged everything.  
  
Aislinn O'Flannery buried her head further underneath the covers, trying to escape from the morning sun and her own anger. The fragmentary memories were coming back to her: Snape tricking her into coming into his chambers, Snape giving her drugged coffee, Snape stealing information from her without her knowing. That bastard! She sobbed into her pillow. This was absolute treason.  
  
I should have known, she thought dejectedly. His manner should have given him away. For once he had been if not kind, at least accommodating. She cursed herself for falling into his trap. She raised her head and checked a clock. Eleven in the morning. At that moment she should be teaching sixth year Defense, but she was too afraid of bursting into tears in front of the class.  
  
Yankee Doodle caught her eye as he preened his feathers. "Ye good- fer-nothin' bird! Ye should have taken care o' him! Killed him!" The eagle rustled his feathers, and flew out the window. Even Bo was nowhere to be seen. Aislinn groaned as she turned over. Her head was killing her. "Bastard," was all she said.  
  
She pushed herself up and realized she had been sleeping in her clothes. She stripped them off, tossing them onto the back of a chair. She reached around, fingering the scars on her lower back. There was no pain in them now, only the lingering memory of blood. Sometimes she wished for something to hurt, something to remind her of the agony she went through to survive. Maybe then she would not fall into traps so easily.  
  
She saw no reason to get dressed today. She would not be going out. The silk chemise was where she had left it; Aislinn pulled it on over her head. She needed time to think. She needed to sort out her feelings; in fact she was feeling almost nothing. She was in a state of numbness and disbelief. She was still trying to wrap her head around what had been done to her. She grimaced.  
  
A knock at the door pulled her out of her reverie. She didn't answer; hoping whoever it was would take the hint and go away.  
  
"Miss O'Flannery, will you open the door?" Dumbledore's voice was both commanding and friendly at the same time.  
  
Aislinn sighed and snapped twice. "Headmaster, the door is unlocked, but I would prefer if you would be kind and fuck off."  
  
The door opened. Dumbldore was smiling. "This is more like the young Aislinn I knew at Hogwarts. Although she was slightly less happy than the current Aislinn."  
  
She smiled halfheartedly. "I wish I could say the same today, Headmaster."  
  
Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow. "We missed you at breakfast, Miss O'Flannery." When she didn't answer, he asked, "May I sit down?"  
  
Aislinn waved her hand in a gesture of acquiescence. "Please, do." She flopped down on her bed, checking for the cat out of habit. "Albus, I don't know if I want to do this anymore."  
  
"Do what?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"This." Aislinn indicated the room in a wide sweep of her arm. "Teach. I feel less than useful here." She sighed. "And I can't stand anymore of Severus Snape."  
  
A knowing glint surfaced in Dumbledore's eye. "Yes, he is rather unkind to you, isn't he?"  
"That's not entirely it, Headmaster. Last night he-"  
  
"Yes?" Albus pried.  
  
"-He used his position to take advantage of me." She fairly spit it out. The anger was still washing over her in waves. It took almost all her self-control not to walk into his classroom and strangle him in front of the first years.  
  
"I would hardly believe Severus would do something of a carnal nature, Aislinn," Dumbledore began. "It's not him."  
  
"Oh, but it's perfectly fine to use deception, is it?" Aislinn screamed. "It's fine for him to drug my coffee and, when I can't do anything to defend myself, take my past from me? Well I don't fecking think so!" Her false accent had been lost in her tirade. "I dinnae unnerstand you, Albus. So 'e can't fuck me, but if 'e uses that veritaserum it's fine?" Tears leaked out from the corners of her eyes. "It hurts, Albus. I came 'ere to get away from all that shite, and it follows me."  
  
Dumbledore rose. "Aislinn, darling. Please." He hugged her close, letting her sob on his shoulder. "Of course it's not all right. In fact, I had no idea he would even attempt such a thing. This is treason in the highest degree and must not go excused." He paused, as if thinking. "I just don't understand why he did it."  
  
"'E thinks I'm a Death Eater, that's why. 'E's a filthy bastard, Albus. Tá an ghráin agam ar an bhfear sin."  
  
"You know I don't speak Gaelic, love," said Dumbledore, stroking her head.  
  
Aislinn raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Albus, yeer the closes' thing t' a fayther I've ever had. Unnerstand that."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, truly touched. "That means a lot to me, Aislinn. But tell me, will you be returning to your post any time soon?"  
  
She sighed, once again adopting her cultured British accent. "I don't know, Headmaster. I think, for the time being, I will prepare my resignation letter. Send an owl to Lupin. I'm sure he would be more than happy to fill in for me."  
  
Dumbledore nodded his head slowly. "I see." He stood slowly and walked to the door. "I do hope you change your mind, Miss O'Flannery. You are a valuable asset to this school, no matter what Severus Snape thinks," he said, and closed the door behind him.  
  
Aislinn collapsed onto her bed, crossing her arms over head in a gesture of protection. She didn't want to leave, but at the same time she saw no reason in staying. Everyone already assumed she was an agent of Voldemort, and Snape's obvious breach of trust had soured the entire experience for her. She had learned the hard way not to give up on the future, but she couldn't see a future in which there was constant distrust.  
  
Where is my fucking cat, she thought. Bo was missing in action when he should be there for comfort. Oh well. She always had nicotine.  
  
Aislinn rolled over, grabbing her pack of smokes from her bedside table and lighting it sloppily. She stood up and perched precariously on the ledge outside her window. Who cares if she was in her pajamas? If they hadn't seen it yet, it was high time they did. But, much to her relief, no one was wandering around the lake. The smoke went into her lungs, calming her. She slumped against the window jamb. "Fuck!" was all she said.  
  
Cigarette finished; she flicked the butt out of her window and turned. Her clothes from last night were still draped over the chair: school robes, skirt, shirt, everything. Aislinn sighed and tried to ignore the mess, but her early years of living in almost perfect cleanliness won over. She picked up the garments, putting them into a bureau drawer reserved especially for dirty clothes. A new outfit was selected for the day, and the chemise once again graced the end of her bed.  
  
I know I said I wouldn't get dressed today, she reflected, but I can't just sit around in my room feeling sorry for myself. I need to get out and preferably torture Severus Snape in a most uncomfortable way. Aislinn grinned as she thought of the pain she would like to inflict on him. He could never withstand twenty lashes with a cat-o-nine tails. He would probably cry like a little girl, servant of Voldemort or not. The Cruciatus might be excruciating, but Muggles did think up some of the vilest tortures ever. Aislinn turned to survey herself in a mirror, and upon finding herself presentable, promptly left the room. Two snaps ensured no one would break in, and she was on her way.  
  
She would not be teaching class again. Best if she could enjoy her last few days here with something resembling dignity. Lupin would be happy for a job; he had been perpetually unemployed since his last stint as a teacher at Hogwarts. Aislinn had been helping to support him, but according to her way of thinking, he needed more food. And a good set of clothes, a voice in the back of her head added. Aislinn sniffed. "Exactly," she said aloud, to no one in particular.  
  
A bell rang, and the hallways began to fill with students. Some gave her a puzzled look, but most just seemed to ignore her. She wondered who was filling in for her. Best not to think on it. She followed a pack of first years down a stair and out into the courtyard. A gateway led to the grounds beyond the school, and her destination of choice: Hagrid's cottage.  
  
She had spent many a day there in her youth, but had not found time to visit him since her return to the school as an employee. Now was a perfect time. Her old friend might look daft, but he always had relatively sound advice for someone down on their luck. Her only wish was that he still brewed the tea she was so fond of.  
  
Hagrid was outside, rooting around on the westward side of the cottage. Fang, his huge dog, started barking as soon as he realized she was coming. Aislinn smiled and waved, calling out a greeting. "Arrah, Hagrid. Ye still 'ere?"  
  
Hagrid's large face lit up in a grin, and he laughed. "Aislinn, darlin.' I've been wonderin' when yeh would come 'n' visit me. I seen yeh at dinner, but yeh've always been too busy shootin' looks at P'rfessor Snape."  
  
It was Aislinn's turn to laugh. "Forgive me language, but Snape's a right bastard, make no mistake about it." O'Flannery grimaced. "Feckin' fool that 'e is."  
  
Hagrid shrugged. "Mos' students seem ter think so, anyway." He slapped himself in the forehead. "What am I standin' here jawin' about? Come in, darlin' dear, and I'll fix yeh a pot o' tea."  
  
"A pot o' tay is jus' what I've been lookin' for, Hagrid, me ould friend."  
  
Harry had waited until eleven before deciding to go back to the dormitory. Obviously she wasn't showing. He was both confused and angry. She had promised! She couldn't have forgotten. After the craziness of last night, there was no way that Occlumency could have slipped her mind.  
  
Harry sighed. He didn't want to think that Aislinn O'Flannery would stand him up. In fact, he was one hundred percent sure his professor would be there on time. Something big must have come up. He turned from her door and started towards the dormitories in slow, measured steps. His shoes scuffed a cadence on the old floors of the castle; it echoed off the walls giving the old corridors an eerie feeling.  
  
He was just thinking about ghosts when something black flashed up ahead. Harry gulped. He pressed his body closer to the wall, but didn't slow his steps. As he rounded a corner, though, he stopped in his tracks. Professor Snape was hurrying down the hallway as if running from a fire. He turned, and it was too late for Harry to hide.  
  
Snape's glare could have frozen a fire. "Harry Potter. Come here."  
  
Harry gulped and stepped forward. "Yes, Professor?" he asked meekly.  
  
"What are you doing, roaming the hallways at eleven at night?" He voice was acidic and cold at the same time. Harry couldn't tell if it was filled with fear, hate, or both.  
  
"I was supposed to have detention with Professor O'Flannery tonight. I was waiting by her classroom, but she never showed up. I'm heading back to my dormitory now." Harry promptly added the obligatory "sir" before Snape could possibly say anything.  
  
A look of mortification crossed his professor's features. "Well, Mr. Potter, I suggest you hurry." Harry hesitated. What was going on? "MISTER POTTER! DID I NOT JUST TELL YOU TO HURRY!" Snape's eyes widened dangerously. "GET TO YOUR DORMITORY NOW, BEFORE I DOCK ONE HUNDRED POINTS!" Nothing more could be said, because Harry was running down the hallways as fast as he would allow.  
  
He didn't stop until Snape was left far behind him. He leaned against a wall, panting. "What the hell is going on?" he said to himself before walking the rest of the way to Gryffindor. Not only was Harry's initial confusion ebbing, but also he was now more than sure that Snape had something to do with O'Flannery's absence. 


	7. Rachtanna Fola

"I am in absolute shock, Severus Snape. This is completely unacceptable. The use of deception on a coworker cannot be excused." Albus Dumbledore was furious. Snape had been called into his chambers believing it was something in conjunction with Order of the Phoenix. However, he had been sorely mistaken.  
  
"I'm very sorry, Headmaster," Snape mumbled to the floor.  
  
"Sorry, Severus? Save your apologies for Miss O'Flannery." The worst thing about Dumbledore's reproaches was not harsh words or yelling, quite the contrary. Albus never raised his voice. Instead, every word was delivered in a conversational tone, punctuated by occasional reproaching looks. It was the worst form of punishment one could ever expect.  
  
"Headmaster-"Snape began.  
  
Dumbledore cut him off abruptly. "Severus, I had expected more of you. You acted like a third year student with a vendetta. Using such dubious means on a fellow professor is intolerable."  
  
Snape grimaced. "What shall I do then, Headmaster? How do you suggest that I remedy this situation?"  
  
"I was originally considering dismissing you from the staff."  
  
Snape looked up from the floor at once and gaped. "Headmaster!"  
  
Dumbledore waved his hand in a motion to be silent. "I have since rethought my decision. Instead, you will be docked two weeks of your pay, as well as be responsible for hallway patrols the entire month of November." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Also, I want a personal apology to Aislinn O'Flannery. Your cruelty to her was uncalled for. You can go now, Severus."  
  
Snape stood and turned to go, but once again turned to face his employer and old friend. "Headmaster, you can surely understand."  
  
Albus nodded. "I can indeed, Severus, but you must understand that some methods should be all together avoided. I hope your curiosity is satisfied now."  
  
Snape nodded once, and promptly exited the chamber.  
  
The hallway was deserted, but nonetheless he hurried to his chamber, shunning any contact. Dismissing him from the staff! He could barely believe it. There was no way Dumbledore could even have thought of getting rid of him! What ever happened to 'you're the best potions master this school has ever had?'  
  
Severus slammed the door behind him, seething. He tried to ignore the voice in his head screaming for recognition, but his inattention to it was in vain. He let the guilt wash over him as he poured himself the familiar snifter of liquor. At the moment, all he wanted was to get very drunk.  
  
Dumbledore was right, the voice said. You wronged her, Severus Snape. In no way did she deserve being duped by the likes of you.  
  
"Shut up!" screamed Severus. "Just shut up! I'm sorry!" He curled up onto the floor, sobs wracking his body. It had been so long since he had cried. O'Flannery had turned him into an emotional wreck. He cursed her, and every good thing she stood for. She was everything that had been denied to him since boyhood.  
  
Eventually, it seemed there were no tears left in him which to cry. The emotion exhausted him; he had no desire to rise up off the cold floor. If he got up, he would have to continue to face the day, the coming year, the rest of his life. It would be so much easier to let life pass quickly from his frame.  
  
There were several ingredients in his potion cabinet, which, if taken together would cause sleep, paralysis, then death. It was a perfect combination. No one would expect it, and he doubted anyone would care. Except Albus, the voice said, chiding.  
  
Snape sat up on one arm, looking longingly at the full brandy snifter on the desktop. He shook his melancholy off like a cloak, standing to rearrange his teacher's robes. Living would have to do for now. Dumbledore was right, but he would weather this as he weathered everything else: perseverance and time. Despite that, he could not stop his mind from sliding back to the horrible things he had learned about O'Flannery. He was not fit to lick her shoe, but yet there he was, assuming he knew all. How many times had he told himself he could not play god? He sneered. God had no place in this equation. It was just he, a woman, and his bitter mistakes.  
  
Classes today had been subdued. Most had learned of O'Flannery's strange absence, and more than a few were confused about it. There were even rumors circulating that she would resign. Snape had to hold tight to his temper, but very few students even bothered angering him. All in all there was a strange depression hanging over the school. It fitted his mood perfectly.  
  
Now, sitting in front of his empty fireplace, he reflected on the events of last night, dissecting each thing. He approached her responses from every angle, trying to find rhyme or reason in her suffering. He had to admit there was a twang of jealousy; he was no longer the professor with the most painful past. Despite his folly, he still cursed her.  
  
Severus mused, thinking on the song he had heard a few nights ago. One particular line had caught his attention, and he spoke it aloud. "But we carry on our backs the burden time always reveals: the lonely light of morning, in the wound that would not heal." He sighed. It all sounded so beautiful. He had no idea she could sing like that.  
  
A memory tickled at the back of his mind. He had been walking back from Knockturn Alley before the term had started. He had met Goyle, the fool, and noticed a club on the corner. A woman had been singing and playing guitar. That same woman, the one that had so unnerved him, was now teaching with him.  
  
Snape groaned. Life had been hitting him with too many coincidences, and he didn't like it. First it was the dreams. Then, the dreams had become reality. People he had seen in his head, or even on the street, were becoming key figures in the way his life was going. Aislinn O'Flannery was a case in point. A brief glance of her in a club had come to determine whether or not he would continue to be on the teaching staff at Hogwarts.  
  
He cursed under his breath. Dinner was approaching; he would have to face her. Hopefully she would wait to throttle him in private. There was little doubt in his mind that she would be leaving, a fact that Snape was thankful for. This was just one of those irreconcilable differences, except in this case neither participant was married. They were rivals in the purest sense of the word. Except he had to go off and complicate things. He could only pray she would be gone by the end of next week.  
  
Snape sat until dinner, thinking on life in general and what he would do when he was old enough to retire. Maybe he would buy a house on the English coast and live in solitude until he died. It sounded appealing: peace and quiet, with only the extreme remoteness as a companion. After spending many of his years with students, it would be a welcome change. He sighed as he stood. The nights of not sleeping were finally catching up to him. His eyelids felt heavy and his head drooped. Not to mention the beginnings of a headache were creeping at his temples.  
  
He walked down the hallway rubbing the bridge of his nose. Most students were already in the Great Hall, if the lack of traffic had anything to do with it. Snape hoped he wouldn't be too late. He could always blame it on guilt. He didn't know how he was going to face O'Flannery; a professor could not just change seats without it being noticed and remarked upon. A sure way to spark controversy was to suddenly move, or do anything unexpected.  
  
He ascended the platform and took a seat as his customary place. However, something felt wrong. He looked around him, and noticed the glaring gap to his right. O'Flannery was gone. There was no sign she had even been there. Snape raised a quizzical eyebrow and turned to Professor Flitwick. "Do you have any idea where Miss O'Flannery is?" he asked, trying to be nonchalant.  
  
Flitwick nodded. "Rumor is, she's taking meals in her room. Won't give a reason why, though."  
  
Snape tried his best to look just as confused even though he knew the reason quite well. It was to avoid him. For once he could find no fault in her logic. If he had the ability, he would avoid himself. Severus sighed, and cursed under his breath. He had been fairly hungry, but his appetite had vanished suddenly at seeing his former nemesis' absence. Damn him and his quest for knowledge. Snape, old boy, there is no way you can know the truth about everything and not get burned, he thought to himself sadly.  
  
Aislinn O'Flannery watched him over the rims of her sunglasses. He had been puttering around for hours, but she could see his energy was dissipating. She smiled at him when he looked her way, but then frowned as he turned into another store.  
  
Her band was a good two hours late, and she was getting anxious. It wasn't exactly anger, just impatience. She and Lupin were to meet them at a café, but they were there early. So, they had lunch and waited. And waited. And waited. She couldn't help but wonder what was holding them up. Lupin stepped out of the store, and Aislinn waved him over.  
  
"Remus, darlin', d'ye have any idea where they are?"  
  
Lupin shrugged. "I have no idea Aislinn. Traffic perhaps?"  
  
Aislinn rolled her eyes. "Ye forgit that I lived in London f'r years, an' traffic was never this bad. I think they stood us up." For a moment Lupin looked shocked, but then smiled.  
  
"Always a joke, always a bad situation, right?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
Aislinn nodded, but then promptly began gazing over her friend's left shoulder. Gazing hard. Remus turned, searching for what Aislinn was staring at. Two men were peering at them from around a corner of a building. They were giggling like girls, and Lupin promptly shot them a rude gesture with his hand. Aislinn, on the other hand, beckoned them like an angry mother.  
  
"Where the hell have ye been?" she yelled. "We've been here a good two hours, and yee're off fecking around while we're waiting. I have a mind t' give ye a good fong in the arse, ye filthy, joking-"  
  
"Aislinn, my sweet Irish flower, we're here now," one chimed in, cutting her off in the middle of her tirade.  
  
The other jumped in. "Yes, Aislinn, your voice is like the music of a sweet May morning. Your face would inspire sonnets of gentility and kindness." He grinned a gap-toothed smile.  
  
Aislinn's face relaxed, and she even smiled back. "Cad eile?" she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I do what I can." A moment of silence passed between them, until Lupin raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Are you practicing or not?" he asked. "As for me, I'm running a few quick errands in Diagon Alley. I have to stock up on supplies if I'm to be teaching again."  
  
The two men shot Remus and Aislinn a questioning look, but shrugged it off. Aislinn shot Lupin a sad smile and gave him a quick hug. "I'll see ye again at the end o' the day, all right?" She turned, following the other two down a street. She wrapped her arms around her chest, as if trying to keep warm. That was a gesture all too common for her now.  
  
It made her look lost, but lost was how she felt at the moment. She didn't know where she was going in life. Yet another unexpected turn had taken her from her goal. Where once her path had looked clear, it was now clouded and gray. She sighed loudly. "Damn you, Snape," she muttered under her breath.  
  
The tallest man was leading the group; he turned to look at her. "Did you say something, Aislinn?"  
  
Aislinn shook her head vigorously, trying to deny anything to both her friend and herself. The man fixed her with a glare. "Okay, Rob, ye win. I said 'Damn you Snape,' if that makes any sense t' ye." She put her hands on her hips and jutted her lower jaw out.  
  
"Makes enough sense to know that something's wrong. When we get to the warehouse you're telling us all about it." He shook his finger at her as if chiding a grumpy child and turned his back. Aislinn shot her middle finger at him.  
  
The warehouse in question was a square brick building owned by Geoff's father. It was normally filled with boxes of imports and merchandise, but Geoff had cleared out a special room for band practice. The walls had noise absorbing pads stapled to them and several electrical hookups for amps and microphones. It reminded Aislinn of a makeshift studio, which in a sense it was.  
  
She smiled as she remembered the drunken parties they had thrown there, and the anger of Geoff's father as he swore at them in French. Both Geoff and Aislinn had blushed, but Rob had no idea what the old man was yelling at them. The most he could say in French was "Je voudrais un autre biere, s'il vous plaît." Aislinn, however, understood every word of his obscenity laced tirade, and tried to placate as best she could. She guessed her tendency to please was based on years of violent upbringing, but something about old, angry men scared her.  
  
She was brought out of her private thoughts by running right into Geoff's back. He grunted and turned. "What?"  
  
Aislinn smiled. "I was rememberin' when yeer fayther tried t' kick our arses f'r drinkin' in th' warehouse."  
  
"I remember that too. Geoff, what was your girl's name?"  
  
"Saiorse," Aislinn chimed in.  
  
Geoff nodded gingerly. "Yeah, that was her. She turned out to be a lesbian in the long run. Ashy, you have odd friends."  
  
Aislinn clenched her fists angrily. "What have I told you about calling me Ashy?" She suddenly lashed out, kicking her old friend in the butt. "If you call me Ashy, I call you Geoffrey, remember?"  
  
Geoff grimaced. "Deal." He held out his hand, shaking hers. "No more Ashy."  
  
Aislinn nodded. "Good. 'S Aislinn. Not Ashy, Ash, or, f'r the love o' God, not Mick!" She giggled. "Remember that girl, that English girl, that thought it would be fine t' call me Mick b'cause I was Irish?"  
  
Rob nodded. "You gave her a good 'fonging,' to use your wording."  
  
"A right ould fonging too. Bet she couldn't sit down f'r a week!" Aislinn cracked her knuckles.  
  
"Aislinn, yee're a righ' oul' bitch, ye are. I t'ink dat ye should 'ead 'ome t' 'Ogwarts," Rob giggled, exaggerating her accent.  
  
Aislinn jumped around in a circle in agitation. "I do not sound like that!" she whined. "The accent gives me character!"  
  
"Yes, dear, but a right ould bitch of a character."  
  
Rob didn't have time to prepare for Aislinn's tackle. He grunted and went down under the weight of her bearing down on him. She shook him gently, and proceeded to tickle him in the ribs. "Say uncle!" she yelled.  
  
"U-Uncle," Rob managed to gasp out between laughs. "St-stop it, Aislinn. St-st-stop, I'm sorry!"  
  
"Good." Aislinn stood up, dusting off the front of her jeans with a superior air. Geoff had been in the process of unlocking the office door when the scuffle had broken out. He resumed the task, shaking his head in mock agitation. The door was opened and Aislinn stepped inside, gazing at the dark interior. She wrapped her arms around her again, but this time in order to stay warm. The inside of the warehouse was freezing.  
  
The weather had not been particularly cold, so she had not brought a jacket or coat of any kind. That was a decision she was cursing at the moment. It was a warm October, but it had been said that the coming winter would be particularly harsh, something Aislinn wished for fervently. She turned to Geoff. "Can ye turn up the heat at all?" she asked through chattering teeth.  
  
He looked at her askance. "It's a warehouse. We don't have heat."  
  
Aislinn sighed. "Fine," she said huffily. "I'll just freeze."  
  
Rob rolled his eyes at her behind her back. "Don't be so melodramatic. It's not that cold. You're Irish, for the love of God. You should be used to it."  
  
Aislinn giggled. "Good point." She walked around the numerous crates and barrels towards the room Geoff had created. Her electric guitar was still in its case, where she had left it. She didn't bother with her acoustic this trip, although she guessed she would end up cursing that fact later on. She didn't want to change strings with freezing fingers.  
  
She lovingly unzipped the padded case, running her fingers over the strings. The guitar had cost about a fourth of her total salary four years ago; there was no doubt it had increased significantly. She twanged the G- string, and winced. It was horribly out of tune. As she began to tune the other band members joined her, and a cacophony of off-tune music and strumming filled the air. Aislinn plucked a few strings haphazardly, and found them sufficiently tuned. She smiled lovingly as she plugged the guitar into an amplifier and cranked up the volume.  
  
"Not too loud," said Geoff. "I don't want my father to get a call. Ce serait mauvais."  
  
Aislinn turned down the volume a bit and began strumming out her new song. "Heaven bent to take my hand and lead me through the fire. Be the long awaited answer to a long and painful fight." She had sung it once before, outside of Hogwarts. Now was the time to show it off.  
  
She smiled at Rob and Geoff as she sang, pleased with herself. Maybe today wasn't so bad after all.  
  
The news was all over the school. Aislinn O'Flannery was resigning. Hermione had heard it from Seamus, who had heard it from Neville, who thought he heard Professor O'Flannery muttering about it in the hallway. Hermione had promptly relayed the message to Harry and Ron. It had been her experience that no matter how far-flung it sounded, rumors of that magnitude were normally true. After all, the Chamber of Secrets had been a rumor, and one hardly to be believed. But it had existed, and that was the crucial point.  
  
O'Flannery's absence had been noted by all. No professor was ever absent from dinner unless something serious happened. The only problem was no one seemed to know the reason why O'Flannery was leaving. However, everyone knew it had something to do with Snape. His glares over dinner were enough testimony to that.  
  
The mood hanging over the school was one of extreme dejection. O'Flannery had been an invaluable asset in her student's lives; she was exuberant and young. She was fairly lenient and remembered what it was like to be a student. Harry could not but hate Snape for chasing her away.  
  
Snape himself had been rather unlike himself in classes. Given, no one antagonized him needlessly, but as of late he had not even cared. He would put the lesson on the board and sit at his desk, either grading papers or staring off into space. Once, Harry even thought he heard his professor muttering some intelligible strand of words, something sounding like "realtai meen wiche ayah in bass." A chord of curiosity had struck Harry. Strangely the nonsense words meant something to him, but as to what he didn't know. All he could tell was that Snape was finally losing his mind.  
  
It was Saturday. Normally it would be a Hogsmeade weekend, but since the threat of Voldemort was growing, the students were confined to the campus. There had been some grumbling at first, but no one was willing to face an agent of the Dark One unarmed. Hogsmeade would just have to wait.  
  
Harry had searched all morning for O'Flannery, but had not managed to find hide nor hair of her. She had seemingly disappeared. Her elusiveness both angered and captivated him. It was like she had a secret life, a Muggle life. Harry and Ron had been making conjectures all day about where she went, and what she did. Ron fancied she had a separate family that didn't know she was a witch, and she had decided to return and take care of them. Harry had guessed she was working on Order business, prowling about Ireland with dogged determination. Hermione had merely huffed and called them childish. According to her there was no way Aislinn could have a separate family. The Order was more likely, but yet highly questionable. Hermione figured Aislinn had just come to the grim realization of teaching: lots of work for little appreciation.  
  
"She is destined for greater things," Hermione had said, nodding her head emphatically. She went on to discuss their Charms homework for Monday. Harry and Ron promptly tuned her out and went back into their own separate thoughts. Harry couldn't guess Ron's, but if they were the same as his he was trying to puzzle out the mystery behind his professor's sudden disappearance.  
  
He knew it was a topic he shouldn't dwell on. He should just forget about O'Flannery and let her go to whatever end she wanted to go to. Instead, he took every aspect and analyzed it, trying to find a solution to the problem, a reason, anything. He even skipped dinner. It was only when Hermione sat him down for a good talking-to did he realize what he was doing would not help his professor or him. It would only torment him more and solve nothing.  
  
He sighed, and decided to sit outside in the last rays of sunset. He didn't know why, there was just something propelling him towards the lake, where the sun was setting orange and brilliant. He waved his friends away, preferring to be alone. As he descended the stairs he found himself humming the song Aislinn had sung the previous night. Her voice had entranced him, and obviously others as well. Today alone he had heard three people with the tune on their lips.  
  
Harry pushed open the doors to the Great Hall, closing his eyes against the blast of air that hit him square in the face. Winter was definitely in the air. He could smell the crispness of the leaves that fell in the Forbidden Forest and the impending hint of frost. He sighed, feeling peaceful for what seemed like the first time in the entire school year.  
  
Classes had been much harder that year. Professor O'Flannery's emphasis on history had floored his grade, and Snape seemed to have an even stronger vendetta against him than ever before. This, combined with his uncanny sense to know what others felt, seemed to put him in an awkward place. He couldn't directly come out and claim his gift, but at the same time the secrecy was driving him crazy. He knew he could survive it, but picking up emotions of complete strangers was odd, if not downright creepy.  
  
O'Flannery seemed to emit the most feeling. Often the emotions were confusing. He would get twinges of happiness, fear, and revulsion. But the one feeling always present was a deep simmering anger, and the knowledge of a hidden secret. Harry was in on her clandestine past, and it was something he had sworn he would never repeat to anyone. He knew that not even he was supposed to know.  
  
Harry drew his robes tighter about him. He had reached the shores of the lake, and the mellow light of a sinking sun bathed him in an orange tint. He smiled. The final warmth of another day sunk into his bones, but at the same time he smelled something that made him wrinkle his nose. It was cigarette smoke, and acrid in his nose. He sneezed, and turned.  
  
Professor O'Flannery was watching him with a raised eyebrow. She held a cigarette in her left hand, and took a long drag, emitting the smoke through her nostrils. For some reason it made Harry think of a devil. She waved a lazy finger at him.  
  
He smiled back at her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked her.  
  
Aislinn shrugged. "Same as you, really." She had dropped the English accent he was so accustomed to hearing. Obviously she was tired of pretending.  
  
"Where did your accent go, Professor?" Harry inquired innocently.  
  
"Figured I didn't need it any more. Y' know about me now, me past and all." For a moment she looked pensive. "Don't think yee're intrudin' on me solitude. Yee're more 'n welcome t' sit." She gestured to the wide swatch of dying sunlight. Harry did so, and Aislinn flicked the rest of her cigarette into the lake. "I know it's bad, but I'm sure th' fish wouldn't mind getting' some nicotine." She smiled, as if she shared a private joke with someone invisible.  
  
Harry sighed. "I didn't know you smoked." It was a statement rather than an accusation, and fortunately Aislinn recognized it as such.  
  
She sighed as well, but hers sounded more melancholy. "I know, Harry. It's a bad habit, an' I realize it. I never did drugs, I rarely get drunk-" She paused and then continued again. "-That's not saying I don't, mind ye, but very rarely. And def'nitely not when I'm coming back t' the school tonight. Anyway, I got started smokin' fairly young, and got hooked." She shook her finger at Harry, her eyes dancing. "If I ever catch ye, I'll give yer arse a royal fonging, ye hear?"  
  
Harry laughed. At least she managed to keep a sense of humor. "You shouldn't have to worry about that, Professor. I have no desire to give myself lung cancer." He smiled. "Professor, I've heard a rumor that you would be leaving." He waited for some confirmation, but when none came he proceeded with his question. "It can't be true, can it?"  
  
Aislinn sighed. "I wish 't weren't, darlin.'"  
  
"B-b-but you can't leave! Who will I learn Occlumency from? Who will teach me about being an Auror!" Harry wrung his hands nervously. "You can't go," he said in a tiny, upset voice.  
  
Aislinn smiled again, but sadly this time. "I don't know who'll be teachin' ye. All I can 'ope is that 's not Snape; that would be an absolute crime. Harry, there comes a point in everyone's life that they must give up somethin' they care about. I love this job, I love the students I teach, but certain circumstances have made it difficult f'r me t' remain 'ere. I would give me entire soul t' stay, but at the same time, I would be too afraid o' puttin' ye in any kind o' danger."  
  
"What danger?" Harry asked.  
  
"I am a wanted woman, Harry. Death Eaters would stop at nothin' t' make sure I don't survive. I know too much about Voldemort; I know too much about who's who in his elite society. I am a threat t' 'is establishment." Professor O'Flannery paused for a moment, as if contemplating something. Her nails made clicking sounds and she tapped them against each other. "You see why I won't stay? I could incur all sorts o' harm against ye, and all o' yeer friends and family. I won't risk that f'r my sake. I am not worth that much."  
  
Harry was silent. Her reasoning made absolute sense, but in his heart of hearts, he did not want to believe it. He adored her, in his own way. She gave a certain aura to the school; a lightness that he had never really felt before. The oppressiveness that seemed to always hang above his head was dissipating, and he thought it had little to do with his own personal situation. "Professor O'Flannery, may I confide something in you?" he asked timidly.  
  
She appeared shocked for a moment, but hid her emotions well. "O' course, child. What is it ye want t' tell me?"  
  
He started at the beginning, when he first saw her in the club and received a feeling about her emotional state. He described how it had persisted, and how now he felt almost everything anyone else was feeling.  
  
Aislinn thought a moment before answering, and when she did her words were measured. "Harry," she began, "that's a gift if I've ever heard o' one. Y' have a talent, and I don't want ye to think about ignorin' it, or wishin' t' give it up. At the same time, it's a dubious talent. I admit it would seem t' make things a lot more difficult, but y' must realize that you're a talented young man. Ye've got gifts that no one else has. I don't know if it has t' do wi' what ye've been t'rough, but child, believe me, cultivate th' talents y' have. I know I would do th' same."  
  
Harry contemplated on her advice for a moment. "I know it's a talent, but I wouldn't necessarily call it a gift. Frankly, it's odd." When she nodded, he continued. "Of course it makes things easier with people I know, but when I'm picking up emotions of complete strangers I feel like I'm drilling into their skull, into places they don't want me."  
  
"Harry, darlin,' unnerstand that once ye've worked on these talents you've got, your control of things will be better. If you train yourself, you can block out the emotions you don't want to feel; perhaps in a while you'll even forget y' notice them." She turned to look back out at the lake. The sun was rapidly slipping behind the horizon and the sky was growing dark above the tenuous orange hue. "Ye might want t' head inside, Harry. I don't think talkin' t' me would get ye pardon from another professor."  
  
Harry nodded and stood, feeling a lot better. "Thank you very much, Professor," he said before turning to walk inside.  
  
Snape had been drawn outside by the hint of a breeze and caught a glance of unruly hair framing a face similar to James Potter's. He sneered. His son had come to resemble him in so many ways: the face, the hair, the arrogance. However, Lily's green eyes stared out of his face. Severus felt a twinge of pain at remembering Lily. He had loved her for a while, but only from a distance. She would have never had him anyway, so he pretended to hate her for her parentage. Given, he had never been close with Mudbloods, but letting her know his true feelings would only set him up for another drubbing. So he had merely watched and desired, and then let James steal away the only person he had ever truly wanted.  
  
All at once, Snape stopped. Someone was humming, and the voice sounded awfully familiar. He padded on quiet grass until he was able to see around a corner of the old castle and wondered where she had been. The woman had been gone all day; no one could find her. Snape hadn't bothered to ask Dumbledore. He wouldn't have divulged his knowledge anyway. A thought crossed Snape's mind, and it dealt with the difficult task of apologizing. Now would probably be the perfect time to do it. O'Flannery was alone and not expecting him. He would just tell her he was sorry and move on.  
  
He stepped out from around the castle, and cleared his throat. "Miss O'Flannery?" he asked in a tenuous voice.  
  
She started, and shot to her feet faster than Snape could have thought possible. "Pairilis!" she cried, flinging the strange word toward him. Suddenly, he felt as though invisible cords were binding his limbs, and tightly. He could not speak. Something was pressing on his windpipe, cutting off all access to oxygen. He started to see spots, but it seemed O'Flannery finally realized who he was.  
  
She snapped her fingers and muttered another strange word and the unseen bonds were released. She looked at him sullenly and crossed her arms over her breasts. "Yes?" she demanded, sounding irate.  
  
Snape cleared his throat again, sucking in air gratefully. "Thank you for almost killing me, Miss O'Flannery," he spat contemptuously. "I see how you treat intruders into your space; believe me when I say I won't be making that mistake again."  
  
"Go bugger yer arse, Snape. I've got better things t' do than bandy words wi' ye." She turned to go, but Snape called out her last name as though it were a curse. She strode toward him until they were within an arm's length of each other. They glared at each other with mutual hate.  
  
"Miss, I came to tell you I'm sorry about the other night. I didn't know." Snape's mouth was dry. Having to humble himself to anyone was so degrading.  
  
Aislinn sneered, then spit on his shoe. "That's what I think o' yer apology, Snape. Ye didn't know, did ye? Well if I had me way, ye still wouldn't know. By the grace o' God, 'twas none o' your fuckin' business."  
  
Severus was taken aback. She had the utter gall to spit on him, when she had teased him since the beginning of the school year with her silences? "Listen to me, you fool. I don't care if the entire excremental isle that is Ireland raped you, when I offer an apology you accept it, understand! I do not humble myself to anyone, let alone anyone of your standards. You lived as a fucking Muggle for Christ's sake."  
  
Aislinn's face was twisted with rage. Her narrow eyes became angry slits, and she bared her teeth as if she were a wild animal. Snape noticed then that her canines appeared unusually sharp, like those of a wildcat's. There was pure and unbridled hate in her expression.  
  
He couldn't stop himself from continuing. If she was going to be cruel, he could be just as spiteful. "I see your anger now. You hate me, and for a good reason. You wanted to be mysterious. You wanted to be adored for being the good daughter, the one that didn't turn. But I can see it in your eyes. You want to kill me, and that would make you no better than your family. If you had the chance, I'm sure you would do the same to your daughter as was done to you. You're a fraud, O'Flannery. A fucking fraud, and I'm here to make sure you remember that every single day you continue to live at Hogwarts."  
  
She moved to fast for him to do anything. A pain exploded in his lower jaw and he staggered. His head swung around, and he sprayed blood and spit as he tried to regain his balance. He squinted. Flashes of light were bursting in his head. The world was spinning. Snape reached up and touched the tip of his tongue; his finger came away bloody. He could scarcely believe what was going on. "You-you hit me," he said in disbelief.  
  
O'Flannery looked at him disdainfully. "If ye ever mention what was done to me again, I'll slit yee're throat. D'ye unnerstand? No one would miss ye, and I have no qualms about it. If I'm so much like me family, then I could do it wi' a clear conscience." She reached out at patted his aching jaw, and hard. "Watch yer back, Severus, because if I see ye make one wrong step, then..." She drew her finger across her throat like a knife, and promptly walked away, whistling a tune.  
  
When she was out of sight, Severus lowered himself to the grass. The sunlight was almost entirely gone, but he needed to rest for a while before attempting the stairs. His eyes were still unfocused. The woman obviously had a strong fist. He continued to rub his jaw gingerly. He could feel it throbbing, and he knew there would be a nasty swelling there in the morning. He spit out saliva and blood from where his teeth had clamped down on the inside of his cheek. He ran his tongue over the laceration and spat again. Damn woman, he thought with less malice than he should really be feeling.  
  
In fact, he was a bit startled at his own reactions. He had come to apologize, and it had ended once again with a fight. At least this time he wasn't taking advantage of her. The bodiless voice inside his head was talking again, something about him starting it.  
  
"I bloody well know," he told it angrily. "But listen to me, she should have accepted it. It's the only one I'll offer." Snape shut up, realizing that talking to himself was never a good sign. It was embarrassing enough to be floored by a woman, even a woman with a strong arm.  
  
With one arm on the ground and another out for balance, he raised himself to his feet. The entire left side of his face ached, and felt warm to the touch. His anger toward O'Flannery was steadily increasing with each step he took towards the old castle. How dare she! He had done nothing to provoke the attack. Despite his words, she had been the one to initially turn down his attempt at apology. And then she had tried to threaten his life! Part of him dismissed it as folly, but as much as he wanted to deny it the other half of him wondered if she would really do it. He had no doubt that with her heritage she was predisposed to violence. But at the same time, would she really resort back to the brutality of her past, and the horrid bloodbath that had been her childhood? He couldn't really understand it, nor did he want to try to. Some things were just better left to confusion.  
  
His face stung horribly. As he meandered about the hallways of Hogwarts, he tried to ignore the violence in the world around him by losing himself in the thoughts of future lessons and glories. It seemed that as he got older his fantasies no longer took on a sexual nature. Now, they were more about recognition in a world that didn't care, or achievements he had yet to attain. At forty he was completely celibate and wouldn't have it any other way. To him, women were nothing more than temptation when he needed nothing of the sort. Unlike his one-time friend Lucius Malfoy, he did not measure success by how many women he had bedded or virginities he had stolen. Of course there had been a time he felt like that, but things changed. Now sex held no allure for him. He had spent too many nights with whores, too many Dark Revels taking what was not given. It left him feeling burned out and shallow.  
  
By the time he retired to his chambers, all daylight had fled from the sky. Stars were just beginning to twinkle in the dark velvet night, and Snape stood at his window, rubbing his sore jaw and watching clouds drift lazily across the moon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the brandy decanter was empty, and he cursed under his breath. He would have to run into London tomorrow in order to buy some more. Good brandy was hardly something to live without. Instead he went to his bathroom and poured himself a glass of cold water, which he downed in one gulp. He could feel it hit his stomach and was reminded he hardly ate anything that night. Hunger would soon follow. The night was not cold enough for a fire, but there was no doubt in his mind that the upcoming winter would be one of frigid days and even colder nights.  
  
Snape turned from the window and drew the curtains, blocking out any light from outside. Instead he lit a lamp and stared as his face in a mirror. There was a distinct swelling on his jaw that was turning a sickening shade of purple. If decorum allowed it, he would show O'Flannery the back of his hand, but he doubted it would solve anything, except get him fired. He was already in enough trouble to last him the next twenty years of his career.  
  
He stalked into the bathroom, all the while cursing the fates that had aligned to make him a teacher. He ran cold water from the faucet onto a towel and put it on his swelling jaw, flinching as he applied pressure. There was no way in hell he would go to Madame Pomfrey and risk having to explain his injury. No, he would just suffer in silence, and if anyone asked he would not answer. There was no use in further embarrassing himself. A woman, he thought angrily.  
  
The bed called longingly. He was tired, and there was much needed rest to be gotten. Fortunately he had the luxury of sleeping in tomorrow. After a rest, he could get the brandy in London, pick up some potion supplies, and plot on how to rid himself of his nemesis. He sighed as he settled his uninjured cheek into his pillow and closed his eyes. Sleep washed over him like a blanket, and with it came dreams of blood, and something that looked like a child with his eyes.  
  
Aislinn had the need for music. She had been practicing her guitar all day, but at the same time, she needed something more calming, something more elegant. She once more took to the outdoors, but this time she carried something in a black case, much smaller than her two guitars. She carried a bow, and when she reached the shores of the lake, she stopped, putting the case down and unzipping it. Inside, there laid a shiny violin, polished to absolute perfection. She smiled and tightened the bow a bit before picking up her fiddle and resting her chin on it.  
  
The first long sweep of the bow produced a sound neither high nor low. It was merely a perfect monotone on which she gauged her playing. She moved her fingers on the fingerboard, arranging different chords and testing her strings. When she was sure everything was tuned, she began with a slow tune, closing her eyes and swaying with the music. Her bow moved faster and her face was tight with concentration. The notes cut through the still night air, and several birds twittered from their nests.  
  
Aislinn opened her eyes slowly and she drew her bow across the strings slowly. She could hear screams in her head; she could feel the blood rushing down her back and onto her bare legs. It wasn't her fault. Daddy, don't hurt me anymore. The song filled with anger and emotion. She pictured Severus Snape in her mind, and she could feel her senses swimming with the Veritaserum. Her hand against his face. His lips on hers. Dreams. Her mutilated back and her father's face. tÁivé Máiria...  
  
The violin fell from her grasp and her knees buckled. Her lips parted in an animal cry, long, low, and keening. "Bail, O Dia, ar an obair," she whimpered as her hands twisted in the dirt by the lake's shore. "Bail ar an obair."  
  
Her voice trailed off. She knew what she must do. The violin was hastily packed with the bow, and her robes flew behind her as she ran into the ancient castle and up the stairs to her chamber. After two snaps the door flew open, and a frightened orange tabby looked up at her with luminous eyes.  
  
"We must go, Bosún. There is no hope here for me."  
  
The cat meowed questioningly as Aislinn hastily scribbled out a note and left it on her desk. It was probably childish, but for once she didn't care. For once she would let her emotions guide her decision, rather than her hard-learned common sense. If she were to keep her sanity, she would need to flee. She changed out of her school robes and into jeans and a t- shirt, threw a few things into an old satchel, picked up her cat, waited for Yankee Doodle to exit the chamber, and closed her door. She didn't bother to reset wards; she would worry about her things later. For the moment, she just wanted to be gone.  
  
With Bosún tucked under one arm and her satchel across her shoulder she followed Yankee outside and into the pale moonlight. Hagrid's cottage looked lonely at the edge of the woods, and Aislinn fought back the urge to pay him one last visit. Instead she shook of her nostalgia and, with strident steps, passed the through the gates that marked the edge of Hogwarts' grounds.  
  
Aislinn O'Flannery stopped and set the cat down. He hobbled about for a bit before finally deciding to sit, and stared up at his mistress with large, luminescent eyes. His tail flicked back and forth nervously. Aislinn regarded him with cool indifference. She thought back, ticking off the places she could go. She would not return to Cork. To do that would be to face her past, something she didn't quite think she was ready for. She hadn't been back since she had graduated from Hogwarts. The flat in London had sold; Lupin had no permanent residence. Her thoughts turned back to friends, and one name in particular stood out in her mind. Fionnuala MacAoidhigán. That is where she would find safety.  
  
She whistled through pursed lips, and Yankee Doodle drifted down to her upraised wrist. The satchel's strap passed between her breasts, and she picked up Bosún before closing her eyes. She concentrated hard, focusing on the energy surrounding her body. She was light; she was nothing more than air. It seemed the air around her picked up, whistling around her as if she was standing in the middle of a gale. She gripped her cat tighter, but Yankee Doodle still sat calm on her wrist. He was used to this, after all.  
  
With a loud crack, it was over as quickly as it had begun. Aislinn staggered slightly upon taking her first step, but quickly regained her balance. Her eagle turned loose, soaring above her head, and Bosún wriggled in her arms. She set him down as a child about four years old rushed out from behind the house. He seemed perplexed for a moment, but was soon off and running.  
  
"Mummy!" he screamed, tearing off in the direction he came from. "There's someone outside to see you!"  
  
Aislinn whistled and her eagle soared lower over her head. She waited for her cat to stand before taking a step forward towards the cottage. A woman with floury white hands and flame-red hair peeked through a window, a large smile spreading across her face. She didn't even bother to shut the door behind her. Instead she ran across the field separating the cottage from the path, her bare feet kicking up grass.  
  
"Fionnuala!" Aislinn shouted, and embraced her old friend.  
  
The woman returned the greeting. "Cad as tú?" she asked as she pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face, leaving a floury trail across her cheek.  
  
"Good as I can be with an ass for a co-worker and a devil sitting on my back," she replied in Gaelic, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Fionnuala. "I'll tell you more about it later, but for now, we speak of happy things. How are the children?"  
  
The small child that had heralded Aislinn's arrival was peeking out of a window. She knew there were five more inside, the youngest no older than half a year. In response, Fionnuala beckoned with her finger. "Come inside the house," she said. "It's warmer, and the wind doesn't cut so deep."  
  
Aislinn followed her friend, passing into the cottage that smelled of warmth and bread. The three older children were clustered around the hearth, one of them was holding a tiny baby that gurgled and cooed. The other two were nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Aoife, Maighread, do you remember Aislinn?" Fionnuala asked and were met with nods. Hellos were muttered, and Aislinn turned to the lone boy among the girls. He hefted the baby to his chest protectively. "Arrah, Kevin, don't kill the wee child," she admonished jokingly. The boy smiled and held out the baby. Aislinn took her, cradling the tiny thing in her arms. "What's her name?" she asked softly, stroking the baby's cheek.  
  
"My husband decided on Maeve, although I wanted to call her Eileen. She's almost five months now. It's hard to believe that only half a year ago I was the size of a boulder." Almost without thinking she pulled a wand out of her waistband and waved it at the oven door. It opened, revealing three fresh loaves of soda bread. "Aoife, could you get those?" she asked offhandedly.  
  
Aislinn smiled. "It's so different seeing a normal family again," she quipped to her friend. "I'm used to children now, but without parents they seem a bit different." She shook her head. "I still can't believe you have six."  
  
Fionnuala smiled. "It's work, I can tell you. But I love them all. Aoife will be heading to Hogwarts next year, God willing. Speaking of Hogwarts, Aislinn Ríonach, is that why you're here?" Fionnuala rested her chin on her hands and tilted her head, meaning she was listening. She had done that ever since Aislinn first met her so many years ago.  
  
"I don't really know, 'Nuala. I needed a place to escape to, not necessarily yours. But I came here because I know I'm welcome, and unlike Saoirse, you'd actually be home. I just don't know what I should be doing now." Aislinn continued speaking, explaining the entire situation to her friend as the baby slept in her arms.  
  
When she was finished, Fionnuala sat back for a moment, pulling on a lock of her short hair. "Well, my dear, I have no problem with putting you up for as long as you need it until you can sort through your little problem. I could always use an extra hand with the children, and Lord knows Declan wouldn't mind. I'll put you in the guest room. And of course, eagles and cats are welcome." Fionnuala smiled and held out her arms. "I think someone needs dinner and then bed."  
  
Aislinn left the kitchen as Fionnuala fed her youngest daughter, and climbed the stairs to the room where she would be staying for an unknown amount of time. She knew the cottage well; in fact Fionnuala and her husband Declan were two of her closest friends. The other, Saoirse, was probably on holiday in France simply to be on holiday, and Lupin was filling in for her at Hogwarts. She couldn't help but wonder what everyone was doing now. They were probably sleeping tight in their beds, which is what I should be doing now, she thought. She kicked off her shoes and went through the ritual of changing into nightclothes before opening the window to let Yankee Doodle out. Bosún was curled up at her feet, and she stretched one last time before relaxing. She was already feeling better.  
  
It seemed final. She was gone, she had quit the grounds last night and no one, and no one had any idea where she had vanished. Harry Potter shrugged his shoulders with a sigh and clasped his head with his arms. It had been a horrible week, and it was only Sunday. Fortunately, Aislinn's substitute for the time being was an old friend, Remus Lupin. He had been the Defense professor in Harry's third year, and was looking even more haggard than usual.  
  
That morning, Dumbledore had made the announcement that Professor O'Flannery had filed her resignation papers, but had mysteriously disappeared after speaking with Professor Snape Saturday night. Professor Lupin was to be taking her place until either she returned or a full-time professor could be found.  
  
Overall, Harry was happy with the change. Lupin was a friend of both his and his father's, and he got along with the werewolf delightfully. After all, it was he that taught Harry to ward off Dementors with a Patronus charm. Harry was just waiting for the right moment to approach him and start a conversation.  
  
Hermione and Ron had said little that day. Hermione, of course, was busy studying for Charms, but Ron was dejected and hadn't come out of the Gryffindor common room since breakfast.  
  
"Come on, Ron, you have to get out and do something today. You can't just sit around moping until things change," Harry pleaded, trying to get his friend active. "Let's go talk to Lupin."  
  
Ron shook his head. "No deal, mate. I'm trying to wrap my head around everything. It's so bloody confusing right now, and it hurts my head."  
  
Harry nodded and promptly left. Ron's dismal mood was affecting him as well, and for once he didn't want to be trapped inside on a perfectly gorgeous day. There was a slight wind ruffling the trees, but it was neither too warm nor too cold. It was a quintessential October day, and Harry was determined to spend it outside.  
  
Suddenly, an idea came to him. He turned and dashed back into his dormitory and up the steps, grabbing his broomstick from where he had left it from Quidditch practice the last few days. In no time he was by the playing field and in the air, soaring around like he had no cares in the world. He began doing quick cutting moves through the air and progressed on to elaborate spins and acrobatic tricks, all the while speeding along at a breakneck pace.  
  
When Harry glanced down, he saw a lone figure in the bleachers, clapping wildly. Harry grinned, recognizing it as Professor Lupin. He zoomed down back to terra firma and alighted from his broom. Lupin stood as well and came down to meet Harry on the playing field. He was grinning as well.  
  
"Well hello, Harry Potter, my young friend," the professor said, pushing a stray hair out of his face.  
  
"It's nice to see you again, Professor. I had been wondering when I'd hear from you." Harry extended his hand, but Lupin pulled him into a friendly hug.  
  
"Well, you're hearing from me now. I'm back for the time being at Dumbledore's orders. The former Professor O'Flannery is out for the time being, getting her bearings." Lupin shrugged.  
  
Harry scratched his head. "I don't really get it, Professor. Everyone here with the exception of Malfoy and his cronies loves her. Why did she leave, and where did she go?" Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you friends with her?"  
  
"Harry, I think you and I are in for a chat. Come on, we can head back to the castle for a good talk."  
  
"I don't really want to go in yet, Professor. Do you want to go sit by the lake instead? The weather's nice enough."  
  
Lupin nodded, and Harry shouldered his broomstick as he followed he professor. They found a shady spot at the lake's shore and settled down, Harry laying on the ground and Lupin resting his back against a tree trunk.  
  
"I don't really know where to start, Harry. I don't know where Aislinn's gone, but I have a pretty good idea it's somewhere in Ireland. She has tons of little haunts on that island, you know, places she'll go when she needs to unwind. If she gets over stressed, I've known her to disappear for days, sometimes even weeks. She always comes back though, so even though she's submitted her resignation, I have no doubt my stint here in only temporary. You can't keep the woman away for long." Lupin paused, smiling at some fond memory Harry wasn't privy to. "She's a wonderful woman, Harry. A bit flighty, but wonderful nonetheless."  
  
Harry nodded. "I know, Professor. She's a good asset to the school. Did she tell you she's going to tell me about being an Auror?" he asked.  
  
Lupin shook his head. "No, but she might not be the best person to ask. Oh, she knows the skills as well as anyone, but as an Auror she was ostracized, hated, if you may. No one is really sure where her allegiance lies."  
  
"I know," Harry said proudly. "I saw it in her head. She's one of us, Professor. It wasn't her fault the Death Eaters used her like that!"  
  
Lupin shook his head again. "I know as well as you do she hates Voldemort, boy. But Death Eaters didn't just use her. In case you've forgotten, her parents were Death Eaters." Lupin's eyes blazed with contained anger, holding Harry's with intensity. "Do you know what they did to her?"  
  
Harry looked shocked. "Her parents?" he asked incredulously. "Her parents did that to her?"  
  
Lupin nodded. "Not directly, but I guess you could say they sacrificed her to it. Both she and her sister were sacrificial lambs because they wouldn't take the Dark Mark."  
  
"Is that why she left?" Harry asked.  
  
The answer did not come quickly. Lupin pondered, running his hands through his graying hair and sighing. His eyes shifted left and right, and his back slumped against the trunk of the tree. "She left because she was betrayed by someone. She guards her past delicately and safely, Harry. Don't ever forget that." With that, Lupin stood and extended a hand. Harry took it and stood, once again shifting his broomstick up onto his shoulder.  
  
"I won't," Harry muttered as he followed his professor inside. If there was something he could be trusted with, it was her secrets. He had no doubt who it was that had betrayed her: Snape. Perhaps that was why he was out in the hallway so late at night. Harry longed to know what he had done, but for once he realized maybe it wasn't his business. 


	8. Chomh Lábánach le Fuil

November had blown in with fury, downing three huge trees and blanketing Britain with sheets of cold rain. It was obvious winter weather had finally arrived, and Severus' spirits were rising. O'Flannery was gone, and it looked like it was for good. It had been three weeks since she had disappeared, and no word had come to his now coworker, Remus Lupin. The werewolf had been watching him nonstop lately, as if trying to watch him make one wrong step. Lupin had refrained from bringing up the circumstances of Aislinn's departure, but Snape could see the question tickling at his brain. In fact, the only thing the Defense teacher had said to him at all was "That's a beautiful bruise, Severus," and smiled. Snape inwardly seethed, but the shiner had almost disappeared, so now it was a moot point.  
  
At that moment Snape was prowling the hallways as part of his patrol for the month of November, a punishment laid out by Albus. Although O'Flannery had left, Dumbledore refused to relent on hallway patrols or refund the pay taken out of his salary. The apology was seemingly forgotten.  
  
Snape grumbled to himself as he remembered the smack the woman had given him. For two weeks he had sported a big purple bruise on his jaw, painful and swollen. He had refused to go see Madame Pomfrey; instead he chose to suffer in silence. When someone asked, he simply pretended he didn't hear them. Better someone's enmity than a wounded pride.  
  
Snape turned a corner and something flicked at the corner of his eye. He spun, looking into a corridor. "Lumos," he commanded, and his wandtip flared into light. He peered into the darkness, and two luminescent eyes stared back at him. "Oh, it's you," he said, addressing the creature. "Where's Filch?"  
  
The cat meowed imploringly, and rubbed herself up against Severus' legs. He stepped back, trying to shoo her away. "Get gone, Mrs. Norris," he said, swooshing his hands at her. She ignored him and sat on her haunches as her caretaker, Argus Filch, rounded the corner. He tipped his head at Snape.  
  
"Good evening," Snape replied a bit caustically. He had never really liked Filch, despite their equal dislike of children. The man was a Squib, and that indicated poor breeding.  
  
"Good evenin,'" Filch replied glibly. "I don't see nothin' out of order in the hallways, sir. Seems all the kids is in bed on a night like this."  
  
Snape nodded. "Thank you," he said, and then headed off down the hallway, leaving the Squib and his cat behind. Instead of billowing, he walked slowly, contemplating life in general and the homework to be given the following day. Somewhere he heard a clock chime eleven, and the Potions professor sighed. Another hour of this, and then he could retire to his bed, where he at least had something to keep him warm. He turned another corner, descended a flight of stairs, and decided to prowl about the kitchens, where perhaps he could get a hot cup of tea off of the house elves.  
  
Footfalls sounded behind him. Snape froze and drew his wand, spinning around silently only to collide with Remus J. Lupin in a traveling cloak and boots. Snape picked himself up off the floor and dusted himself off while Lupin chuckled. "I don't see what's so funny about a late night collision, Remus," Snape hissed.  
  
Lupin was still sitting on the floor, giggling. "It's funny because, dear Severus, you're the very person I was looking for."  
  
Snape cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  
  
Lupin nodded. "Yes indeed. I was outside having a brief conversation with a friend of mine and thought of you. So I came to find you and ask you if you wanted to join me for a cup of tea in the kitchens." Lupin stood. "So?"  
  
Snape's head reeled in confusion. A friend? Outside, in this weather? "I'm afraid I'll have to pass on the invitation Remus. I have other things to do rather than spend my time playing in the rain."  
  
Lupin shrugged, despite the flicker of anger in his eyes. "Your loss." The werewolf trotted off to the kitchens, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind him.  
  
By now, Snape's curiosity was piqued. He began following Lupin's footprints, and found they leaded to a door exiting the castle. Snape paused, thought for a minute, and decided it couldn't hurt anything. He pushed the heavy oak door open quietly and stuck his head out into the drizzle. His eyes flicked left and right. There was nothing. "Lumos maxima," he whispered, and his wandtip lit up brilliantly. For the second time that night he was greeted with two luminescent pinpricks in the dark. Snape groaned. "Filch is going to be furious with you, cat. You'll be wet and muddy." However, his words froze in his throat as the creature moved forward into the light.  
  
It was lynx, well muscled and tall. Snape had never seen one of them on the grounds of Hogwarts before, so he looked at it suspiciously before stepping out of the safety of the doorway and into the cold English rain. His polished shoes made sucking noises as they sank slightly into the mud, and Severus cursed it. The cat, however, didn't seem troubled by the dank conditions. As Snape watched, it twitched its tiny stump of a tail and flicked its ears, baring its teeth in a grin. Snape held his wand out in front of him, hoping to blind the animal. The cat merely lowered its head and started forward again. By this time it was three feet from the professor, and he was feeling a little cowed.  
  
The lynx stopped, glared at Snape with huge green eyes, and began hacking. Snape made to retreat, but not before the cat had unloaded a wad of spit on the corner of his robe. It turned and promptly fled, leaving the professor alone in the rain.  
  
Snape was seething and wet, but he walked with determination towards the library. Pictures shouted angrily at him to put the light out, but he waved them off with a rude gesture brought on by anger. The cogs in his head were turning rapidly. No regular wildcat would approach a human, and no regular wildcat would hock snot. If anything, that was a human habit. This had not been the first time an Animagus had prowled the grounds of the school, and now all that was needed was to identify who it was.  
  
All the registered Animagus' were listed in a large book kept in the library. There was a possibility the animal could be unregistered, but that would carry a large fine and perhaps a prison term. Lupin's words tickled at his brain. "I was having a brief conversation with a friend outside..." He thought back on members of the Order, but nothing really stuck out in his mind.  
  
The book was heavy in his hands, and but sometimes the cost of information was a little effort. He was reminded of his early morning foray into the library a month and a half earlier, where he had learned of O'Flannery's background and thus implicated himself in the plot that led him to his current situation. He shook his head longingly. The past could not be undone.  
  
"I was having a brief conversation with a friend outside...you're the very person I was looking for..."  
  
Something about Lupin's words unsettled him. Severus had an itching feeling that the lynx would turn out to be someone he didn't want to hear from, but he steeled himself and opened the book. The "chapters" where alphabetized by animal name, and Snape flipped to L's and ran his finger to the subheading "Lynx." About thirty names were listed, along with locations and descriptions of the animals. Snape's eyes scanned the pages, looking for a familiar name. Suddenly, it jumped out at him.  
  
"O'Flannabhra, Aislinn Ríonach. Green-eyed lynx with winged spot design on back."  
  
There was his answer. No wonder the cat had approached him. That was the second time she had spat on him, and he wasn't about to allow a third. In the morning he would go straight to Dumbledore's office to report an Animagus prowling the grounds. Hopefully something would be done, and the woman would be prosecuted for trespassing.  
  
He wondered what she and Lupin were discussing. It was probably her current location and future prospects, but her sudden appearance disturbed him. He had almost forgotten about his precarious position, but the lynx's identity planted it in his mind once more. Snape sighed angrily. It was the things like this that disturbed his peace of mind, if he even had any of that left. Everything was tearing at his senses: O'Flannery, the unpredictable nature of Voldemort, teaching incapable students, everything. He cursed underneath his breath as he opened the door to his rooms. It was not yet midnight, but he had decided to retire early, hall patrols or not. Fifteen minutes would not alter the course of the world.  
  
Snape slipped out of his teaching robes, hanging them neatly in a closet. He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples. He needed a warm shower and perhaps a snifter or five of good brandy, something that would scald away the sick feeling at the back of his throat. He was turning into an alcoholic, but he didn't care. He was past the point of denial. He was fully aware of what he was doing. As long as it didn't interfere with his teaching duties, he was fine with his own private addiction.  
  
Aislinn O'Flannery had apparated to the gates of Hogwarts before turning into her lynx form. Hopefully she would not be seen by anyone of consequence. She doubted Dumbledore would have a problem with it, but she was supposed to be collecting her thoughts, not running around the grounds without anyone's knowledge. There was only one person who knew of her coming tonight, and that was Remus Lupin. She had sent him a letter the other day via Yankee Doodle, telling him that she was coming to visit, and to look for a lynx outside the south exit by the kitchens.  
  
She padded silently through the grass, stopping when she heard Fang's familiar bark. She highly doubted it would wake Hagrid, so she continued. The dew was damp on her paws, and she flexed her claws just to feel the musculature in her cat arms. She tried to grin, but only managed a grimace. Cat faces were just not made to show emotion.  
  
She reached the south exit and sat down to wait, flicking the stump of her tail. It would probably be around ten forty-five; so all students should be in their dormitories and not prowling hallways. She felt safe for the first time in a long time. Her weeks spent at Fionnuala's had been incredibly calming. It felt different peeling potatoes over a trashcan after poring over lesson plans for two months, but it was a welcome change. The children were delightful, and Declan was happy for the help. Aislinn had mended fences, herded sheep, and ridden a cranky horse around in freezing Irish rain. It was like she was a child again with no responsibilities.  
  
She lay down on the dew soaked grass, resting her head on her paws. She thought back to her childhood in Cork, and the laziness that came with being a child of privilege. Her early years had been placid and happy. Her mother had doted on her, buying her random gifts and dressing her up in expensive silk dresses. Then her younger sister was born and Bean Mhi had two girls to cherish. Aislinn's father Alastair was away from home frequently, but when he did return he always brought exotic presents for his three beloved children. Richard, her brother, had been a fine figure of a boy before he turned thirteen, and would often play with her in a fort down by the stream.  
  
Aislinn would often look at him, tilt her chin upwards and imitate her mother, saying "Bí i do bhuachaill maith" with the same authority Bean Mhi possessed. Her brother had merely laughed and ignored her, dunking her in the cold water all the same. They had two ponies, a cat, and two Irish wolfhounds, and Aislinn was always finding small animals to bring home and "nurse back to health." When the Revels took place, Aislinn would parade in front of the assembled Death Eaters like a queen, earning many approving looks and wistful sighs. Voldemort himself had chucked her under the chin, calling her a perfect angel.  
  
It had all started to change when her brother took the Dark Mark. He became reclusive, and when Aislinn began to menstruate her father had come to her, demanding she become a Death Eater. Aislinn had refused, not really understanding the magnitude of her decision, and then the abuse had begun. It didn't stop until she fled home at eighteen. Then her real life had begun, and it had led her here, sneaking around the grounds of her former school to meet an old friend in secrecy. If only things had gone better. She loved teaching, but the taint on the school couldn't be lifted. Severus Snape had ruined it for her.  
  
A rustle in the grass behind caused her to spin around, and she sat back on her haunches as Lupin's face smiled down at her. "I should have known you'd come like this," he said, carrying a blanket under his arm.  
  
Aislinn resumed her human form, wrapping the blanket around her naked body. Her clothes had been shed at the gates as she changed into the lynx. An animal just couldn't wear clothes made for humans. "Thank ye, Remus, my dear. It's dreadful cold t' be out here wi'out clothes." She chuckled.  
  
"You really shouldn't be here at all, Aislinn. I'm afraid you'll get caught. It could be considered trespassing, or even a threat to students."  
  
Aislinn rolled her eyes. "Stop the bullshite, Moony. I'm as much a threat as that blade o' grass there." She pointed. "How's the classes wi'out me there?" she asked, feeling the familiar twinge of pain in the back of her throat. How she hated being denied!  
  
"Everyone misses you, Aislinn. Will you come back?"  
  
Aislinn rubbed her chin. "I have yet t' decide. I want to, but Snape's still here, and I don't think I'd ever get along wi' him. Not after what 'e did t' me. Anyway, I sent ye th' letter to let ye know I'll be playin' a show with Rob and Geoff this comin' weekend in London. I'd like ye t' stop by. Take a day off. Have a good time wi' me." She smiled.  
  
Lupin sighed. "I don't know, Aislinn. I'd need time to think about it."  
  
Aislinn crossed her arms over her chest, looking exasperated. "What is there t' think about? You either come, or y' don't. Not too difficult is it?" There was a biting anger in her voice, and she tried to chase it down.  
  
"Aislinn, there's no reason to get testy about it. I'd love to come, and I probably will. It's just a matter of finding time in a busy day. And, next Saturday is a full moon, in case you've forgotten." Lupin matched attitude with attitude, and hoped he would come out winning. Aislinn merely sneered.  
  
"So take that potion Snape concocts for ye. Ye should be fine then, right?"  
  
Lupin nodded.  
  
"So, it's settled," said Aislinn triumphantly. "Ye'll take the potion, and then come to the show Saturday. We can stay in th' Leaky Cauldron till Sunday and apparate back. Ye won't be missed."  
  
Lupin nodded again. "That should work. But now, tell me something. Where have you been staying, and what have you been up to?" the werewolf asked, his genuine curiosity showing in his voice.  
  
"With Fionnuala," Aislinn answered. "I've been doin' a lot o' farm tasks and takin' care o' the children." A wistful look came into her eyes. "God, how I miss a normal life. Have ye ever wondered, Remus, what things would be like if ye had been born normal, or at least raised that way?"  
  
Lupin thought for a moment. "Yes and no. I often wonder what it's like not to be a werewolf, but I think a normal, Muggle life would be incredibly boring. I can understand the desire in your case, though. Perhaps if you had been born normal you wouldn't have what you have."  
  
Aislinn smiled at her friend lovingly. "But I have people like ye, Remus, that make life worth livin.' Without ye, I wouldn't be here." She embraced him suddenly and quickly, planting a swift kiss on his lips.  
  
They stood, encircled in each other's arms, and gazed into each other's eyes. Aislinn saw fear and concern in her friend's, and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'll be fine, Remus. Don't ye worry about me own well being. I'll get things sorted out soon enough, and ye'll see, I'll be back."  
  
Lupin held her close to him, rocking her gently. "I love you, Aislinn," he whispered before letting her go and retreating back inside the castle.  
  
Aislinn was left alone, and quickly changed back into the wildcat form, the blanket wrapped around her body falling to the ground. She stretched, trying to chase away the tears that threatened to fall unbidden onto the cold grass. Lupin's admission struck her, and struck her deep. There had been genuine feeling and concern in his voice. She knew he cared about her, and that he wished he could love her, but he had never really admitted it.  
  
She sat on her haunches, flicking her stump of a tail back and forth. She tensed her paws, pushing her claws out of their sheaths, and resisted the urge to slash something. Instead, she sat, gazing into the darkness that surrounded her. The air was cold, and a slight breeze ruffled her fur. Aislinn shivered against it, and was about to turn to go when she heard footfalls and saw a familiar shape in the darkness. Instead she once again sat down, glaring into the flaring light of a wand tip.  
  
She heard a groan, and Snape's voice chide her. Aislinn stood, walking into the light and smiling as she heard her enemy's voice die in his throat. This had to be unexpected. She doubted he knew her identity, but seeing a random lynx so close would cow anyone. She bared her teeth, and suddenly got an idea. Coughing was difficult with the throat of a cat, but Aislinn did so, gathering as much spit in her mouth as she could manage.  
  
She then released the spit in her throat with absolute vehemence on the corner of her enemy's robes and attempted to grin wickedly before running off into the drizzle. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. She resisted the temptation to turn back towards Hogwarts and kept on moving towards the gates, but she felt her heart grow heavier with every step she took.  
  
Hogwarts had been her happy home for about two months before the experience was soured, but she kept thinking back on her students. Most of them had been a true joy, no matter what house they were allied to. In fact, Aislinn enjoyed watching the subtle discrepancies between the houses and their students. She didn't believe in playing favorites; a Slytherin was just as welcome in her classroom as a Hufflepuff.  
  
The gates loomed up before her, and she noticed the wet pile that was her clothes and attempted a frown. She took her human form, feeling a bit exposed, and took a deep breath, clutching the soaked clothes to her chest. All other concentration went towards her Apparation, and the gates of Hogwarts disappeared behind her in a blur of color.  
  
Lupin's lessons the past three weeks had been informative, but there was a feeling lacking in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry loved having an old friend around again, but he couldn't help feeling an intense loss in his chest. His Occlumency lessons had ceased, as had any hope of speaking to a former Auror he would have seen on a regular basis. However, the class had been adjusting to Lupin's presence rather well. Malfoy, of course, had been taking regular jibes at him, but Professor Lupin seemed to shrug them off with no problem. Harry only wondered what the Ministry of Magic was thinking.  
  
Currently they were working on a Shielding Charm, although practical lessons were often difficult to coordinate. Harry had partnered up with Neville, and both of them shared a covert smile at their memories of the defense club they had formed last year under the nose of Delores Umbridge. Most of the Gryffindors in the class had got the charm down right the first time, much to Slytherin consternation. Professor Lupin merely flashed a covert smile at Harry and continued on his direction.  
  
Neville waved his wand, disarming Harry easily. "Where d'you reckon Professor O'Flannery is?" he asked as Harry bent down to retrieve his fallen wand.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I asked Lupin, and all he had to say was she's somewhere in Ireland. I don't see how it really matters; I doubt she'll be coming back." Harry paused a moment, biting his lip. He lowered his wand from blocking a spell and looked Neville right in the eye. "Look, Neville, I never really got a chance to say thanks for helping me out at the Department of Mysteries last year. It was, well, really brave of you to come with us. I just feel kind of guilty about luring you there."  
  
"You didn't lure me there!" exclaimed Neville, looking shocked. "I chose to go on my own, right?"  
  
Harry grudgingly nodded. There were still large amounts of guilt eating at his insides. He led his friends into certain danger, and the outcome was one of horrific consequence. He chanced a glance at Lupin, whose back was turned to the pair at the moment. He wondered how he was taking it. After all, Lupin had been the last of the Marauders to stay close to Sirius. Harry knew they had lived together at the end, although it seemed Lupin was always out doing things for the Order. It must have been ungodly hard for Sirius to remain locked up in that house.  
  
Harry was jolted out of his reverie when he was hit by another disarming spell and Neville scoffed. "That one was easy!"  
  
Harry smiled and picked up his wand again, and was just about to deflect a spell of Neville's when Professor Lupin raised his hands.  
  
"All right, wonderful, wonderful! If you'll pack away your wands we can continue our practice our next class. Bell's about to ring, and I want to give you time to pack up and get organized. I'm too lazy to grade homework at the time being, so I'll give you a night off."  
  
His announcement was met with happy cheers as everyone packed up their books and settled bags on their shoulders. Harry smiled and Ron and Hermione and then transferred his eyes to Professor Lupin. The man looked tired, as tired as any human could manage. He was pale and bruised bags were under his eyes. "He looks awful, doesn't he?" whispered Harry to his friends.  
  
They nodded. "I've heard Malfoy complaining in the Great Hall that his father is really unhappy Lupin's back teaching. Something about half- breeds and danger to students." Ron had a look of utter disgust on his face. "The only danger here is what Malfoy's dad would do if he had his way with everything."  
  
The bell sounded, and Harry entered the mass exodus into the halls. The mood seemed fairly light-hearted, although there was still a twinge of sadness at the thought that Professor O'Flannery might not be returning. However, even Lockhart would have been in an improvement over Delores Umbridge of last year. Harry chuckled silently at remembering her face after being carried off by centaurs, and how good it would feel to sneak up behind her clapping coconuts together.  
  
Their next class was Potions, and when Harry realized it, his spirits seemed to dampen. He doubted anything he did would be enough to save him from the wrath of Snape. The man hated Harry; that's all there was to it.  
  
"Are you still missing that Celtic traitor?" a cold voice drawled behind Harry.  
  
He spun around to find Draco Malfoy leaning against a wall near the Potions classroom. Crabbe and Goyle flanked him, cracking their knuckles.  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron's voice was equally as cold and hateful.  
  
Malfoy started forward. "Didn't I tell you last year, Potter, that you were dead?"  
  
"Well, I'm still here, obviously. I can see why you didn't pass your divination O.W.L.," Harry growled.  
  
Draco merely grunted and whipped out his wand. "All funny jokes, Potter, but without your beloved Defense teacher here, what are you going to do? I have almost complete immunity here."  
  
Harry considered for a moment. What the fool said was true. Malfoy was one of Snape's favorite students. Any fight that broke out would automatically be considered Harry's fault, witnesses or not. However, he might not have a choice if Malfoy fired a spell at him. He would have to retaliate, or suffer.  
  
Ron was the first to answer. "No you don't, scum. You know damn well that Dumbledore won't take your lying side. If we go to him, and say, perhaps, you just threatened Harry's life, do you think he'd dismiss it as a lie? No way! So watch what you say, Malfoy."  
  
Malfoy's eyes flicked right and then left. "Is that a knut on the floor, Weasely? I bet to your family that would be a week's worth of bread, right?"  
  
Harry had to hold the back of Ron's robes to keep him from lunging straight at Malfoy's throat. "Ron, stop! Ron! You'll just get in trouble!"  
  
And trouble was exactly what came around the corner. Snape stared down at Harry and Ron, the corner of his lip twitching. "Fighting, are we?" he asked in a cold tone. "Ten points from Gryffindor."  
  
It didn't get any better from there. Harry knew he had to tread carefully around Snape or risk failing his class. He had been very careful to follow every direction perfectly, but many times the hated professor still found things to criticize. Today he was not stirring slow enough, and the potion was not the proper shade of green.  
  
"Half credit I think," Snape drawled. "I expect two rolls of parchment on properties of betony and St. John's wart and the effects when combined. I expect it on Monday. Clean your cauldrons."  
  
Harry glared at Snape's back with pure hatred. If only he hadn't looked into the penseive... His mind trailed off at the thought of what he would find in Aislinn O'Flannery's head. Probably lots of angry and painful memories, but then again, she seemed to have a deep love of music and good times with friends. There would be memories of raucous and drunken parties as well. He thought of her that last night out by the lake and the lazy way she drug on her cigarette, allowing the smoke to issue from between her lips as she spoke. In all, she had seemed relaxed; not at all upset she was leaving. And then she had just...disappeared.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione's tense voice caught him unaware.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I was just telling Ron that after your Divination classes, my Arithmancy, we should go down to see Hagrid. We haven't done that in a long time. I bet he believes we've forgotten him."  
  
Harry nodded as the bell rang. He had two more classes: History of Magic, and Divination. He was just about to suggest that Ron skive off Divination when he heard a familiar voice echo in front of him.  
  
"...Well, she's playing a show in London on Saturday, so I'm probably going to figure out something to say to her then." Lupin was talking to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy professor about something having to do with music. Harry's mind worked furiously and could only come up with one conclusion. He shushed a talkative Ron and hurried closer to listen.  
  
"I hope you manage to talk some sense into that woman. Leaving in the middle of the night like that with only a vague hint of where she was going!"  
  
Lupin sighed. "I know, Nigel, but she's always been compulsive like that. She'll come back; I know I can convince her if I catch her before she gets too drunk. I think she just needed some time to unwind. You know how women are."  
  
Sinistra nodded before leading the conversation off in another direction. Harry's head was buzzing as he turned back to his friends with a triumphant smile on his face.  
  
"Hermione, Ron," he began. "By Saturday we need a way to get to London."  
  
The brandy was taken care of. Despite the weeklong wait, it felt nice to think without the haze of alcohol hanging over his head, but the temptation to imbibe could wait no longer. Snape took a left on a dingy street, looking right and left for Muggles before disappearing into The Leaky Cauldron. The bar was fairly empty, and an empty chair seemed to beckon to him. Snape sat, nodding at the barkeep.  
  
"Don't see much of you in here, Severus," Tom, the bartender, said, nodding back.  
  
"I know, Tom, but it's damn difficult to escape that school of mine. This is my first time out since late August."  
  
Tom shook his head. "Jesus. I couldn't imagine. Now, what can I do you for?"  
  
"Two shots of firewhiskey and a glass of water. Wait, make it three shots." He heard Tom chuckle as he poured the drinks. Perhaps three was a bit much to ask. It was too late to change his mind now. He downed the first shot in one gulp and grimaced. The burn in his throat was refreshing; made him know he was still alive. The other shot went down easier, and just as quickly. The last one slid down his throat like silk. He winked at the goggling barkeep. "It's been a long week."  
  
"Obviously. Christ, I've never you seen you put it away like that. Is something wrong?"  
  
Snape barked a laugh. "You could say that, but don't worry, Tom, it's under control now." He flashed the man a rare smile and stood. "That was a much needed reprieve, sir, thank you," he said as he handed the barkeep a Galleon. "I don't want change, I'm feeling oddly generous tonight," Snape called out over his shoulder as he entered the backroom.  
  
It was true. Getting out of Hogwarts had done wonders on his mood. The oppressiveness had lifted, and had been replaced with something bordering on calm. It wasn't exactly peace of mind, but there was no longer an angry buzzing in his head. The brandy was heavy under his arm, and he delighted in the thought of lightening the load later. He tapped three bricks and the archway to Diagon Alley opened before him.  
  
There were a few people on the streets; after all it was only nine. Snape could feel the alcohol beginning to dull his senses, but he wasn't exactly drunk. He was walking a fine line, though, and he had to admit it felt nice. There was a certain lightheadedness to his thoughts and memories bounced around his head in a frantic dance. Lilly Evans was there; cold in her fury, and Lucius Malfoy was clapping him on the back as he downed an entire bottle of firewhiskey. Severus chuckled. He was so much younger then. He had the world open to him. That was before... He adjusted the bottle under his arm as he grimaced at the unpleasant thought. His left arm burned at the shame.  
  
He stopped abruptly. He had wandered towards Knockturn Alley, but was not quite there. Instead he was facing a shabby building with open doors and bright windows. Music slithered from inside and out onto the street, and a few people milled about outside. Snape's grip tightened on the bottle of brandy, but his feet willed him closer. He had to know if she was there. Despite his curiosity, there was already an answer to his question floating around in the back of his head. It wasn't just circumstance. There was a sick kind of magnetism between them; it was almost as if he was meant to be here.  
  
Yes, it was her voice, raised in song. It was entirely different than her strong, beautiful song from the previous months. This time it was violent. Snape stepped inside, standing on one side of the door. He needed a quick escape if necessary. He watched her, fascinated. Her fingers slid into chords easily at the same time she crooned her song to the crowd. Severus strained his ears to make out the words, but the tune of the song was epic, with layering of chords and instruments to make a perfect combination.  
  
"To the lovely dancing lights, I begged 'May I cut in?' but the never stopped playing their song. Of a joyous song they sing, I've heard whispers. On a freezing note, I resonate."  
  
Snape's eyes were on her fingers as they sped along the fingerboard. The nails were green tonight, and he could see the tattoo on her left hand stand out against her white skin. He raised his eyes to her arms, where the same two Celtic bands knotted their way around her flesh. He unconsciously rubbed his Dark Mark and realized he had quit listening.  
  
"You land as lightly as new snow, cinematic, onto the melting boy and melt away. You light as gently, you're so cinematic. Bathed in your radiance, I melt." There was a small grin on her lips, as if she shared a joke with herself that no one else knew. "In the glitter, in the dark, sunk into velvet praying this will never end. In the shadow of a star, in static pallor, I realized I never began."  
  
Snape knew the feeling. He wanted to smile at her, but stopped himself in time. Instead, he moved a step forward and into the light. The music washed over him and he tuned everything out except the lyrics.  
  
"Twisting, twisted. You land as lightly as new snow, cinematic, onto the melting boy and melt away. You light as gently, you're so cinematic. Bathed in your radiance, I melt." The music changed to something slower, and Snape opened his eyes. She was glaring at him, hate in her eyes.  
  
"All the colors, upon leaving, all will turn to gray. All the colors...upon leaving...all will turn to gray. Gray." Her voice lingered in the air, haunting and inflamed. Snape averted his eyes from hers and lost himself in his memories again. He must look a right fool, standing among a crowd of youths, and clutching a bottle of brandy. He thought of the loathing in her eyes whenever she looked at him, and he cursed himself for his mistake of showing up, even if it was accidental. The music was gone, and with a start Snape blinked and glowered up at the stage. There seemed to be a quick whispered conference taking place between O'Flannery and the rest of the band. The drummer, a tall, muscular fellow, was grinning wickedly.  
  
O'Flannery raised one of her hands, gesturing for silence. "Well, we had originally planned t' play another song, but I think in these certain circumstances, this one is called f'r." She bared her teeth as she announced the name, something having to do with blood. This did not sound pleasant. He was aware of these "circumstances" she spoke of, even if the crowd seemed confused. This one was directed at him.  
  
It started out slowly, beautifully almost. "Faint white figures paint my sleep, please don't tell my secrets keep them hidden." The bass guitarist provided background vocals, but Severus didn't bother wondering about those. His entire attention was focused on the woman before him. "If the words that matter reach your face from the floor will you be wondering if, or..."  
  
Snape almost dropped his brandy bottle as the words coming from the bassist caught him by surprise. Do I need what is given, or honest? Did she have to bring his mistake into her music? Could the witch just let him be?  
  
The voice in the back of his head was chiding again. You came here, it said. You sought her out. Snape grimaced at the truth, not wanting to believe it. The next set of lyrics he missed, until the music swelled and O'Flannery's voice, pleading, roused him.  
  
"And when the answer that you want is in the question that you state, come what may... Come what may." She grinned right at him; a wicked expression filled with contempt and pain. Well, he had wanted an answer. He stood firm, glaring back at her, but she did not look away. Instead her narrow eyes widened with pretend shock as she began the next verse of the song.  
  
"In a pain that buckles out your knees could you stop this if I plead? So destined am I to walk among the dark, a child in keeping secrets from..." The bassist interjected something, but Snape wasn't listening. When was she ever a child in keeping her secrets?  
  
"In the sought for matter when the words blame you, in a blood red summer I'll give you, I don't want it anymore. And when the answer that you want is in the question that you state, come what may. Come what may." In a split second that insolent grin was wiped off her face and replaced by look of severity. "What did I do to deserve this?"  
  
The words echoed around him. The guilt was crushing him. "What did I do to deserve...this?" Her eyes were narrowed. She would kill him if she had the chance. There was such palpable hate between them, although Severus' face was quickly darkening, not from anger, but from shame.  
  
What had she done to deserve anything? Absolutely nothing, and yet he had violated her in a manner more intrusive than rape. He thought of her limp form on his couch, and how easy it would have been to take her, had he been that kind of a man. You are that kind of a man, Severus, the voice in his head cut in. You have violated more than your fair share of innocent women, and yet you want to continue... Snape's stomach clenched. He could smell the blood from years ago, the blood that flowed so freely at those Revels.  
  
Severus started as he realized the song had changed to something less threatening and personal. It was still sad, yes, but then again what was his place to critique that woman's music? Snape held the brandy bottle tight against his chest as he turned on his heel, billowing away from the building as if it were on fire. His aversion with himself was intense, and he ached for the moment he could be safely in his chambers, drinking himself into a stupor he wouldn't have to deal with until the next morning.  
  
"I can't believe 'e had the nerve, the feckin' gall to even show 'is face!" Aislinn raged as she poured herself a drink. Now was a time for drunkenness, but Aislinn was just starting. "'E just shows up wi' his liquor like 'e had no care in th' world." She paused for a moment, and then turned to her friends. "I want t' kill him," she said in absolute seriousness, her face a mask of anger.  
  
She saw Lupin grimace, but Rob grinned. "How would you do it, Aislinn?"  
  
She thought for a moment, resting a finger against her chin. "I think, first, I'd whip 'im until 'is back was just a mass o' blood. Then, after he's been beggin' f'r mercy, I'd use a silk tie around 'is neck t' suffocate him." Aislinn could see it all in her head, unfolding like a play. Suddenly, she realized what she was doing, and she shivered. "Never again," she whispered, and wrapped her arms around herself.  
  
Rob shifted uneasily under Aislinn's hard gaze. "What are ye playin' at, Rob?" She turned from him and tossed down the whiskey like water. It burned her throat, but she refused to splutter. Instead, she poured another glass and drained it. The alcohol was dulling her senses, and she smiled. The warmth spread through her body; she heaved a sigh as she sat down in a chair.  
  
"I don't really want t' kill 'im. It's just difficult to deal with, havin' a man y' hate show up at a place y' never expected to see him," Aislinn explained as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. She shot a quick look at her guitar, propped in the corner, before tucking her legs up underneath her. Lupin's hands were resting on her shoulders, and Aislinn leaned her head back against his stomach, exhaling in one long sigh. She looked up at him and winked; he winked back and kneaded his thumbs into her shoulder blades.  
  
"Should we leave?" asked Geoff tentatively, and Rob guffawed.  
  
"Are you kidding, Geoff? It's Remus and Aislinn. I would trust Remus in a room full of naked women, and dear sweet Aislinn there is calm enough to be a eunuch." Rob laughed again, but promptly moaned in pain when a glass caught him in the stomach.  
  
Aislinn glared at her bandmate and then turned back to Lupin. "Continue, Remus my dear," she whispered, and whimpered as her friend's hands worked at her shoulders, freeing up tensing muscles. Aislinn's head rolled forward, her chin resting near her collarbones, as Lupin caressed her neck and ran his fingers along her scalp.  
  
Ice clinked against glass, Geoff and Rob spoke lowly, but Aislinn's full attention was focused on Remus Lupin's fingers as they traveled down her spine, feathering outward near her hips, and then sliding back up to her shoulders. "Remus, it's times like these I wish I didn't know ye so well," she murmured to him, her hands tensing in her lap.  
  
Remus reached around, smoothing hair back from her face and tucking several strands behind her ears. He chuckled lowly. "Aislinn O'Flannery, you would do no such thing. I'm just the traveling masseuse."  
  
Aislinn stood, taking Lupin's hand and leading him to a couch on the opposite side of the room. She shot an evil look at Rob, who was winking at Geoff in a suggestive way, and shook her head. "Boys," she muttered.  
  
She staggered a bit before sitting and giggled, the alcohol flowing through her system. She wasn't drunk, but she was beginning to feel light- headed, and her balance was suffering. There was a fire in her body, too, another side effect of her drinking. She settled against her friend, her head resting on his shoulder and his arm circling her waist. "I'm lonely, Remus," she whispered to him, twining her fingers together.  
  
"What about Fionnuala?" Lupin's voice was husky in her ear. "How can you be lonely when you have so many close friends around you now?"  
  
Aislinn shook her head. "Not like that, Remus. I want t' be loved. I want t' be touched an' kissed..." Her voice trailed off and she nuzzled into Lupin's neck. "Spend the night wi' me," she whispered.  
  
"I am, Aislinn, in case you forget. I'm here to get you home and help you walk, at the rate you're going."  
  
Aislinn slid her left hand onto her friend's thigh. "No, Remus." She shuddered against him, giggling softly. "Stay wi' me tonight. Make love t' me."  
  
Remus didn't pull away from her, or even acknowledge her for a good thirty seconds. He sighed, moving her hand from his thigh back to her lap. "We've been through this before, Aislinn, my darling, my dear. You remember what happened last time?" She nodded, and he continued. "Aislinn I can't and won't sleep with you. I know you too well; it would be like sleeping with my little sister. You're getting drunk, and that's why you feel this way." Aislinn saw him smile down at her, light dancing in his eyes. "I thought you swore off men."  
  
Aislinn could feel her lip trembling. She wanted to cry. "I'm-I'm sorry, Remus. 'S not my place t' ask that of anyone." She straightened visibly, tossing her hair back. "Forget I ever brought it up."  
  
Lupin adopted a confused stare. "Brought what up?" he asked innocently.  
  
Aislinn laughed, standing up and reaching towards the liquor. "If I'm going to get drunk, we all have to get drunk!" She raised the bottle to her lips, pouring the liquid down her throat. She lowered the bottle, handing it off to Remus and shaking her head to clear it. She could feel the alcohol hit her stomach, and watched Lupin pass the whiskey to Rob. She felt like she was nineteen again. Snape was forgotten. Hogwarts was lost in the miasma of alcohol and friends, and Aislinn swayed her hips to a drumbeat Rob was beating out on a table.  
  
"I'm worth a million in prizes with my torture film, drive a GTO, wear a uniform on a government loan..." Aislinn sang softly to herself as accepted a nearly empty bottle from Geoff.  
  
Rob threw back his head, shouting "I've got a lust for life!" at the top of his lungs as he continued his frenzied beating.  
  
Aislinn ran into Lupin, grabbing him around the neck gently and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He sighed. "Is that that miserable song about Johnny doing a striptease and hypnotizing chickens?" he asked her, pushing her away gently.  
  
Aislinn nodded. "God bless Iggy Pop," she said somberly with her hand over her heart. She knew she was swaying under the influence of the whiskey, but a sloppy smile was plastered over her face.  
  
Suddenly, she spun on her heel, her arms outstretched to keep her balance. The door had opened, but no one stood in the frame. Aislinn whipped her wand out of a pocket of her jeans, leveling it at the doorway. "I suggest that whoever is hidin' show 'imself before I have t' do some damage," she hissed lowly. All motion behind her had ceased. There was silence.  
  
The door shut; pushed by an unseen force, and abruptly Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasely were standing in front of her. Potter held something silvery, something that caught the light in such a strange way...  
  
Aislinn crossed her arms over her chest, but was pushed out of the way by a furious Remus Lupin. He was yelling, though half his words were unintelligible, and Aislinn shook her head. "Remus let them be." She took a step forward, unsteadily.  
  
Lupin looked at her angrily. "These are my students, Aislinn. I am responsible for them"  
  
Aislinn drew herself up to her full height. She fixed her old friend with a wary gaze before speaking. "Seo, tá uisce faoi thalamh, Remus." He understood, and backed off. Aislinn turned back to the three children in front of her. Her voice was cold and calculating. "I'm sure that one o' you three has a damn good reason f'r being in London tonight." She pointed to the couch. "Sit. And speak."  
  
She watched as the three students settled themselves, all various shades of red. Her eyes bored into them. "Well?" she asked, her voice angry.  
  
"We needed to see you again, Professor." Aislinn's head swiveled to fix Ron in her steely gaze.  
  
"Am I your wife Weasely?" He shook his head. "I didn't think so. Why did ye have this insatiable urge t' see me tonight?"  
  
"Professor O'Flannery, please." Her penetrating gaze turned to Hermione, who winced, but continued to meet her old teacher glare for glare. "We overheard Professor Lupin in the hallway saying you'd be in London tonight, so we decided to sneak out to come see you. Everyone misses you, Professor. We wanted to ask you ourselves if you'd even consider coming back." Her eyes were pleading. "Please, Professor."  
  
Aislinn turned away from her former students. "I can't answer that question now. I need time t' think." She put her head in her hands, trying to clear her thoughts.  
  
"Aislinn, think about it," Remus interjected. "I came tonight to tell you I have to go back to Spain. I can't continue covering for you. You're needed there."  
  
Aislinn shook her head, trying to deny it. "I can't go back, Remus. I can't face him and his arrogance any more. I'm scared I'll kill him. Remus..." Her voice trailed off. "I don't know what I'm doin' anymore."  
  
"Think about it, Aislinn. You loved it when you were teaching. The kids obviously miss you. Go back." Remus' voice was soft and convincing, and Aislinn relaxed, once again turning to face Harry, Ron, and Hermione with her bleary eyes. She snorted.  
  
"I guess your reason passes muster. I want ye back at Hogwarts in minutes, ye understand me? I'll be back soon enough; Monday or Tuesday perhaps." She nodded her head once; it was final. If three students could risk their education to tell her she needed to shape up, then she felt required to teach them everything she knew. "It's done," she said, extending her hand to the three students.  
  
Each one of them grasped it, smiling.  
  
"There are three unused fireplaces in the square, remember?" Hermione sounded exasperated as she measured out the Floo powder. "Harry you told me you needed a way into Diagon Alley, so we have one. We can't apparate, and I'm not even sure the proper way to go about making a Portkey. The Floo network will have to do."  
  
Ron shuffled a bit, but eventually accepted the powder, grumbling under his breath. Hermione shot him an angry look, but said nothing at all.  
  
Harry's insides felt jittery. If they were caught, they would surely be expelled. Leaving the school at any time was strictly forbidden; he doubted any other student had traveled off on a late-night jaunt to a club in London. Harry took several deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves. He, Ron, and Hermione were secreted in the Room of Requirement, since the Gryffindor common room would no doubt be filled with students. They had been there for the past hour as Hermione and Harry attempted to teach Ron Muggle poker, all the while waiting for the proper time.  
  
Harry checked his wristwatch, sighing. "Now's as good a time as any. It's about nine o'clock."  
  
Hermione shifted uncomfortably. She was the most nervous; school was her life, and to be expelled would be worse than being killed. To her, at least. Despite that, she was the one to point out the existence of three fireplaces in Greymalkin Square, linked to the Floo network. Harry owed her a great debt for that. She had the answer when he was still puzzling over means of transportation.  
  
He stood, cupping the Floo powder carefully. "I'll go first. It was my idea, and if anything happens, well, it's my fault." He gave his friends a small grin in order to soften the words. He didn't really expect anything would go awry, but it was better to be safe than sorry.  
  
The flames in the fireplace looked foreboding, but Harry tossed in the Floo powder, watching the normally orange fire turn to green. They crackled malevolently. He stepped into them, shaking off the odd sensation that he was standing in fire and not being burned. "Greymalkin Square!" he commanded, and he felt his body begin to spin. He had never really become accustomed to the Floo network; it left him feeling queasy. He was cold; his eyes were squeezed tight, and then suddenly his feet hit something solid. He opened his eyes and stumbled out of one of the empty fireplaces, feeling amazingly clean. He looked down at himself; there was not much ash, really. Then again, these fireplaces were probably cleaned often. He stepped out into the square, looking around warily and waiting on his friends. Hermione arrived shortly after he did, followed by a grumpy looking Ron.  
  
The square was almost deserted. A few people hurried past, throwing looks over their shoulders and at the new arrivals. Ron shifted. "I hope no one here knows Dad."  
  
Harry grinned. "I almost forgot! Here!" He reached inside his shirt and pulled out something silvery. The invisibility cloak. Harry unfurled it and settled it around his friends. "I know it's harder to stay under it now, but still, it comes in handy."  
  
It was harder; the three friends were growing, and significantly taller than their first year. However, Harry could rest easy now, knowing they couldn't be seen. They turned a few corners until they saw they shabby building in front of them, filled with the sounds of laughter and music.  
  
"We're going to have to stay under the cloak. I'm sure Professor O'Flannery would kill us if they saw us there."  
  
"Then how are we going to talk to Aislinn, Hermione?" asked Ron.  
  
Hermione thought for a while. "I think that after the show we should go backstage and take off the cloak then. Hopefully she'll hear what we have to say."  
  
That seemed like the best course of action, so Harry nodded sagely, agreeing silently with everything Hermione said. She had thought everything out beforehand. He wanted to laugh; that was so like her. Trust the girl to think about every aspect of their adventure before it happened. Harry was proud to know her. "Are we ready?" he asked, not really waiting for confirmation. They were here. They had to do what they came to do.  
  
It was difficult trying to shuffle through the doorway while attempting to remain unseen, but somehow they managed it. Once inside they hurried over to a dark corner, praying that between the three of them, they wouldn't hit anyone. It always made for several awkward moments or harried explanations, and this was not the place for either. Fortunately, luck was with them. From the corner Harry looked out over the crowd, seeing no one he recognized except Aislinn O'Flannery, smiling. She was in the middle of a speech to the crowd, something about support and loyalty, but Harry tuned that out. Instead he focused on things to say and how he would explain his absence from Hogwarts to her later.  
  
"...An older song of ours, Letter of Intent."  
  
Harry felt Ron elbow him in the ribs. "We'll finally get to see a full show," he whispered hoarsely, but Harry ignored him.  
  
"You break down systematically when everything is black and white and red. Is up for living enough to sleep at night? You must be tired now from days and nights of growing old, I'll mark this down as one and call it moving on." A pause. "Don't bother reading those last rites, with demons sleeping soundly out of sight, sustaining tones of broken bones will sleep with you tonight. You must be drying out from days and nights of growing old, I'll this down as one that I take to my grave...alone!" She banged her head in time with the drumming, but her attention seemed focused on her shifting fingers and changing chords before continuing. "I'm making this...my last reply...it's my resignation... And I'll mark this down as one for moving on!"  
  
Harry joined in the applause as the bassist leaned forward. He was the same wiry one, but this time he wasn't smoking a cigarette. "So, it's wonderful to see you all again so soon. We were planning to make you wait a few more weeks, but Aislinn here was itching like a cat on crack to play, so we figured we'd indulge her, right, Rob?" The drummer grinned and nodded his head vigorously.  
  
"As I remember, ye were th' one itchin,' Geoff, because y' see, he got a bad case o' the clap off one o' those French hookers when he went to visit his dad, and this is kind o' his celebration. So ladies, stay away from him, y'hear me?" A titter of laughter raced through the audience, but Harry looked over at Hermione and noticed she was blushing.  
  
"I'm sure she was kidding, 'Mione," Harry said, trying to reassure her.  
  
"I know, I know," answered Hermione, "but I just keep picturing her as a professor, and she's telling dirty stories."  
  
Another song followed shortly, but about halfway through Harry almost choked. "Look!" he whispered hoarsely, pointing with one hand towards the door.  
  
"Bloody Hell," Ron interjected quietly as Professor Snape snuck cautiously through the doorway, holding a liquor bottle. "What is he doing here?"  
  
Harry had to reassure himself that he couldn't be seen, but he had broken out in a cold sweat nonetheless. He attempted to focus his attention on the show, but kept checking back on the Potions master. It was obvious O'Flannery had noticed him; she conferred with her band mates on stage and began a deeply personal song that caused Snape to flush a bright red. He promptly fled.  
  
Harry continued checking his watch, and about eleven the crowd began to disperse. The band didn't really leave the stage until midnight, when Harry beckoned his friends to follow him, keeping close under the cloak. A small flight of stairs proved almost disastrous, but soon enough they were in a back hallway behind the stage, listening to muffled voices and sounds of celebration. Now was time.  
  
The three moved entirely in sync with each other. Soon enough the door was open, but they had forgotten about the presence of Remus Lupin, as well as the magnitude of Aislinn's anger. Hermione struggled out from under the cloak, followed by Ron, and Harry pulled it off himself. Shame was etched on his features as his former professor muttered something to his current one in a thick, guttural language and faced them herself.  
  
However, he could see the almost-hidden laughter dancing in her eyes, and as he shook her hand he couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. O'Flannery tried her best to look severe, but as Harry shut the door behind him, he could hear her laughter cut through the night. It was one of the most pleasant sounds he had ever heard. 


	9. Scéal ar an Droch Shaol

So the woman had returned. It had been two days since her second arrival at Hogwarts, and Snape had tried his best to avoid her, if that was at all possible. He had been running into her in the hallways at almost every turn; he was beginning to think she was trailing him. It almost made him wish for Lupin to return. At least the man hadn't shadowed his footsteps. In his heart of hearts he knew that he would have to face her eventually, but the longer he could put it off, the better. She rarely even looked at him now; at dinner her once-angry face was down turned. She had not tried to speak with him after the incident at the show, but at least her reception had been better at the second meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore's acceptance of her had seemingly convinced everyone else the woman was not a Death Eater, despite her family. Snape had his own proof, but he was not about to stand up and support her among such a varied group. Such an announcement would prove he was originally mistaken, and that was not something he thought he could handle.

He winced as he rubbed his jaw. At least the bruise was gone, but there was still that sick reminder of what he had done to her. Deep inside, he found himself wishing he _could_ have raped her; at least then she would have a legitimate reason for her hate. She was pretty enough, if somewhat plain. Perhaps the only thing that had held him back was her past, and the fact that, at fourteen, Lucius Malfoy had stolen something from her that should have never been taken. He would have felt differently if it had been consensual, but Severus found himself loathing his once-friend more than usual.

He had seen Malfoy in the last days, speaking to Dumbledore about the substitution of a filthy half-breed, no doubt. It had taken almost all of Snape's will to keep the acrid comments out of his greeting. The two had spoken in secret of the next meeting of Death Eaters; it was scheduled to happen soon enough. Fortunately for Severus, it would not be a Revel. Those meetings turned his stomach; he could barely live with himself for days afterwards. Instead, Malfoy had hinted at new schemes and old tricks: deception and murder. Snape only wondered what the scheming area entailed. It would probably be a punishment for allowing O'Flannery to disappear for a time being; Severus winced at the thought. He doubted his body could take any more of the Cruciatus.

In order to "prove his loyalty" he had been subjected to it until his body was to the point of breaking. He had crawled back to his bed, barely able to walk, and slept for three days, waking only to eat and relieve himself. It had put the fear of the afterlife into him; he no longer doubted what Voldemort was capable or willing to inflict upon his own Death Eaters. He smiled a private smile as he found himself mouthing O'Flannery's words. _What did I do to deserve this?_

You were born, Severus, he told himself and popped his knuckles. Despite his annoyance at the woman, he felt he had to admit she was a fantastic musician. She had a presence with a guitar in her hands very few people could have ever managed, even with coaching and practice. He had seen her outside once since her return, whistling away on a flute, filling the air with a haunting melody that made him think of fog-enshrouded coasts and lonely sojourns.

Severus checked his wristwatch, noting the time. Three hours until dinner, and then another long night of hallway patrols. Albus had hinted at relieving him of them; his report of a prowling Animagus had obviously made a good impression. Overall, however, Dumbledore didn't seem overly concerned about Aislinn and her uninvited visit. In fact, the headmaster seemed to have expected it. She had violated no laws, after all, and caused no harm to either student or teacher. Dumbledore wouldn't seek to press charges; she had been a Professor, after all. He _had_ promised to speak with her, and when Snape saw O'Flannery later that day, she had a chastised animal look about her, despite the fact her head was held high. Nothing could injure that woman's pride.

A sudden burst of maniacal laughter floated through the halls, but Snape didn't pause in his strides. Peeves had probably caught some unfortunate student with ink, or had tipped a statue over on Mrs. Norris again. Snape couldn't help but smile. The lurking cat _was_ asking for it most of the time. He paused at a window, watching students meander around the lake. It was a fairly nice day. After the weeks of rain, several days of pleasant, sunny weather had dried out the ground. There was still a definite chill in the air, but almost no one would turn down an opportunity in the sun.

Snape watched Draco Malfoy's blonde head as the boy laughed. At sixteen, he looked very much like Lucius, with his white-blonde hair, straight nose, and high cheekbones, but he had inherited Narcissa's delicate mouth. Overall he was a very attractive young man; Snape had noticed many of the Slytherin girls watching him as he walked past, muttering about Pansy Parkinson, Draco's current girlfriend. Snape had chosen to overlook the fact that they were sleeping together; after all, both students _were_ in his house. He didn't see sex as a crime. Young people would be young people, complete with all the sordid details and bad decisions that came with youthfulness. It was only inter-house relationships that bothered him. Like should stick with like. There was no greater blasphemy than, say, a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw, or a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor. The very thought made his lip curl.

Something soaring above the trees caught his eye. He sighed as he realized what it was: Harry Potter on a broomstick, zooming around the Quidditch field, looking for the golden snitch. He had almost forgotten that there was to be a Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor the coming weekend. There was no doubt who would win. Potter's lifetime ban, put there by Delores Umbridge, had been revoked, so Slytherin had almost no chance. The team was adequate, but it was no match for Potter's superior skills, or those two Weasely children. Last year Snape was sure they Quidditch cup would have been theirs, but Ron Weasely had somehow improved within days, and this year, Ginny Weasely was a Chaser, and a good one at that. Most of the Slytherin team was built for power, not for speed. It was a shame Marcus Flint had graduated. _That_ was a talented player.

Snape lingered at the window a few minutes longer, wondering if maybe his own sordid childhood could have been different. He was still seething about Potter… He let the thought go, taking a deep breath to chase down his anger. Nothing could be done about that now. The past was the past, and the future was unknown. Maybe the boy would die battling Voldemort. Snape could only be so lucky. No doubt the boy would survive to life a highly decorated life, which was _if_ he survived. Snape grimaced at the thought of his former master, and tried to chase the vile feeling at the back of his throat down.

He turned from the window back into the relative darkness of the castle corridors. Let the boy face whatever is coming to him. What did it matter to him if Potter lived or died? As much as Snape tried to accept that idea, it was apparent that he depended on Potter's success. He couldn't really believe that if Potter died, Voldemort would allow Severus to live. Somehow news of his deception would leak out, and then he was as good as dead. A shiver ran through his bones, one that had nothing to do with the weather.

His thoughts turned back to O'Flannery. As much as he hated to admit it, she did deserve an apology. He just didn't realize how to do it. Another random confrontation would not work, especially not in a public place. The last attempt had ended in bruising and humiliation. If only there was a surefire way to get the woman alone, in a private area without having to use a ruse of seduction…

Snape winced. The very thought was chilling. His grimace turned to a hidden smile though, as he imagined the look of shock that would appear on O'Flannery's face if he even attempted to touch her. She would probably hit him again. However, he couldn't help but wonder if she would have him. He hated her, but she _was_ enthralling. There was so much he didn't know about her, and so much she kept guarded. It made her appealing in a sick sense of the word, and Severus didn't know whether to embrace the idea or run screaming from it.

He sighed to himself again. The woman was a right mystery. If only he could figure out a way to humble himself to her without groveling. If only she would let him off without forcing him to do so.

"I have been absent for a while, and I'm sorry. I don't expect any of you to be happy with me, or even remotely pleased at my sudden disappearance." Professor O'Flannery's face was taut, concerned even. "I am here to make my apologies and move on. I hope you can do the same." Aislinn paused, her hands twisted together in front of her. She was uncomfortable having to explain herself, but she felt an explanation was due. She had seemingly abandoned her charges, leading to initial confusion. "I guarantee that I shall remain here for the remainder of the year, if not longer. There will be no more disappearances or absences from myself, unless it is needed or called for. You have my word." She raised her hands in a gesture of friendship and honesty, resisting the urge to swear her oath in the language of her youth. She doubted anyone except Finnegan would understand it.

Her eyes swept over the boy, taking in his suspicious eyes and tight mouth. He didn't believe her. The boy came from an Irish wizard family. There was no way in hell that he hadn't heard of Clannad O'Flannabhra and the history behind it. She shouldn't have to try to convince him, but yet at the same time she wanted no doubt that she was not her family. Years upon years of humiliation, torture, and power had built up quite a reputation for the O'Flannerys, but Aislinn was willing to sacrifice everything to erase that black smear on her name. She would gladly rid herself of the manor estate, the piles of money in the Gringott's Bank, and the acres of land if only she could be looked on without disgust.

She sighed, muttering under her breath as she swept out from behind her desk and leaned against it instead. She laced her fingers together, resting her hands on her belly. "I understand from Professor Lupin that you have begun covering shielding charms. I believe we have beaten the history to death, and instead of boring you today I think we shall continue with practical lessons. So, my dears, wands out and partners chosen." She snapped her fingers. Students partnered up with others and began working. She had to admit, the Protego Charm was a difficult spell to do, one that required lightening-fast reflexes and a calm head. She resisted looking at Potter, practicing with Hermione Granger. The boy had this spell down perfectly.

She began flickering around the classroom, observing all groups with a wary eye. There was always room for improvement, even for her. She was leaning over, helping Lavender Brown, when she heard the swish of a wand, a whispered incantation, and a yelp of pain. Aislinn shot to attention, fixing Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin, with a glare full of malevolence. She had taken in the scene at once. Obviously an ill-timed spell of Finnegan's had hit her, and she had retaliated. Finnegan's cheek was bloody from a five-inch long gash, which he held, moaning. Blood trickled between his fingers on onto the stone floor.

"Miss Zabini," Aislinn growled lowly. "If I may see you in my office, please? Finnegan, stop pouting, it's easily fixed." She crooked her finger at Blaise and fell in behind her, closing the door once the office was reached.

It took a good five minutes to get through her blubbering of "it was an accident, I swear," but by the time detention with Filch was assigned, Zabini was shooting looks of absolute hatred at her. Aislinn always hated punishing students, but they absolutely could not believe they had free rein in her classroom. She opened the door, allowing a chastised Blaise to exit, and raised an eyebrow at Seamus. "Finnegan."

The boy's face was petrified in a look of fear. Aislinn was taken aback. Surely he couldn't hate her so much? She stepped out of the office, shutting the door behind her and turning to face Seamus as he stopped in front of him, eyes on the floor and still holding his cheek. "What did you do to her, Finnegan?" Aislinn asked in Gaelic.

He answered in the same throaty language, voice halting in shame and fear. "She had insulted my girlfriend yesterday, so when she was bending over getting her wand I sent a stinging hex over at her arse-" he winced at the choice of words, but it was too late now "-and next thing you know she turns and curses me." He hung his head.

"Finnegan, I wish I could let you off the hook but you started it this time. I'm sorry to say you'll be serving some detention with Filch as well, but I'll see that you have it at a different time than Miss Zabini over there. I want you to understand, Mr. Finnegan, that cheap retaliation is never profitable or honorable. You'll only do yourself harm."

The boy still wasn't looking at her. "Seamus." That got his attention, and his eyes met hers. "Don't believe everything you hear, boy. I would give everything I could to erase what has been done under the pennant of O'Flannery." She smiled as she realized he was shocked. "I'm not stupid, Mr. Finnegan. I've got many more years that you do."

"Gabh mo leithscéal," was all he said. She was beginning to believe his eyes were permanently fixed on the ground.

"As well you should be." She crossed her arms over her breasts in mock aggravation. "Níl aon dochar déanta, Finnegan. Now get to Madame Pomfrey before your robes start dripping." She watched him hurry out of the room, trailing small spatters of blood behind him. Every day was interesting when dealing with large crowds of kids shoved in one room. She ignored a few angry glances from the Slytherin students and many more confused stares from the others and continued with her help.

She made her way around the room until she reached Potter and Granger. "It's nice t' see y' didn't make any more trips into London. That was a serious infraction." She smiled. "I won't even bother askin' how ye have the charm down so well, but Mr. Potter, I believe we have detention t' continue."

Hermione looked at her askance. "Detention? Is this about London?"

Aislinn shook her head, conversing in lower tones. "I've chosen t' overlook London entirely. 'Twas a brave but stupid thing ye three did, and I stress th' word stupid. However, Mr. Potter owes me four more days o' detention, from a violation of basic manners earlier in the year." She knew her eyes were twinkling, but hoped she wasn't embarrassing Harry too much, despite the fact that only Potter and Granger could hear her. "I've no doubt he's told ye everythin,' Miss Granger."

Her nod confirmed it. Aislinn wanted to laugh. She remembered her own youth, when everything that had happened to her was shared and poured over by the four closest friends of her youth: Fionnuala, Saoirse, Brianna, and Darcy. If only there was someone close to share her pain and triumphs now. The faces of her friends faded as Aislinn raised her head to face Harry. "I expect ye after dinner. Nine o'clock. No later." She winked and stood, moving on to help someone else.

Class fairly sped by; in fact the bell surprised her as students scrambled about, trying to pack up at the last minute. Aislinn sighed as the last child left her room and fairly fell into her chair. Her first day back in the classroom had gone incredibly well. The first years had been more than excited she was back, and she had to curb their enthusiasm with threats of extra homework. Except for that little snafu with Seamus and Blaise, her second lesson couldn't have gone better. She was amazed at their progress; she made a mental note to thank Remus for his attention and time. He had obviously taught them well.

Now it was back to making lesson plans and grading papers. Fionnuala couldn't understand why Aislinn missed it so much, but the spontaneity of teaching never ceased to amaze her. She had missed it. Taking a few weeks vacation was called for, but Aislinn felt as if she had finally come home for good. She had all but renounced life in Cork, and Hogwarts was where she felt needed. She leaned forward to shuffle papers, skimming over the top one. It was Malfoy's, and the boy actually had many good points. Aislinn grimaced. She tried her hardest not to hate the boy, but it was hard to do when his father was the one who had stolen her virginity. Draco excelled at Defense Against the Dark Arts, but then again, the boy was raised in a household rife with it. Aislinn didn't know much about Narcissa, just that she condoned her husband's actions, even if she was never a direct part of it. Even that made Aislinn hate her. She fairly shook with rage every time she thought of Malfoy, and she had actually seen him in the corridors two days ago. She had to hold herself back; she had wanted to launch herself at his throat, rip it with her teeth. Maybe then he would understand how she felt.

Aislinn shook her head, realizing her teeth were bared in a snarl. This was her off period, so she stood, taking the stack of papers with her and slipping a red pen into one of the pockets of her teaching robes. The staff room had a good fire going, no doubt, and there she could get a nice cup of tea. Perhaps she would even have company. Aislinn smiled as she shut the door behind her, remembering to set wards. She began whistling a tune under her breath, an old song about a long homecoming.

"Mr. Potter, please, shut th' door. It's damn drafty in those hallways and I don't want any o' that extra cold air in me classroom."

Harry did so, noting that her classroom did feel warm. A minor heating charm no doubt, since the classroom itself didn't have a fireplace, and Aislinn didn't seem keen to move into her office. A quick glance through the door showed the desk to be piled full with papers and other things synonymous with resettling. Harry turned to smile at his professor, and stared in shock at an orange blob propped on his professor's lap.

Aislinn chuckled at him. "'E gets lonely all locked up in me room. The eagle can come an' go as 'e pleases, but Bo's stuck on th' ground." The blob shifted at the sound of her voice, and Harry found himself staring into two fathomless green eyes. It was an orange tabby cat with several large chunks taken out of his ears; scars long healed.

"What's his name?" asked Harry.

"Bosún, or Bo f'r short. It means 'mistake.'" The mistake suddenly hopped down off his mistress' lap, and Harry gaped once more.

"It only has three legs," he pointed out rather obviously, and felt ashamed immediately afterwards. _Of course_ its owner would know about its legs! Harry stared at where its fourth leg should be, where there was only a tiny stump descending from the hip. The cat, however, moved quickly with a hopping gait and didn't seem troubled by his missing appendage at all.

Professor O'Flannery sighed. "I know. About four years ago, right when I got meself a job at th' Ministry, I found that useless bag o' fuzz on th' side o' the road. He'd been hit by a car, an' 'is poor leg was so mangled a vet had t' get rid of it. I decided t' keep him because 'e reminded me a lot o' meself, actually. He was beat up and left f'r dead, but the ould bastard survived, much like you and I did, I guess. He's a daily reminder o' survival an' perseverance."

"Is that why you named him Bos-Bos-whatever?" asked Harry, trying to fit his tongue around the strange language.

His professor threw back her head and laughed. "Bosún, Harry. Say it after me. Bosún." It sounded like "bosoon," with an odd slur on the s. Harry tried it, and even O'Flannery had to admit it came out well.

"But, yes, I named 'im Bosún, or Mistake, b'cause 'twas a mistake 'e ever survived. He should be dead, but there 'e is, pretty as ye please." The cat turned around when Aislinn said his name and meowed. He turned again, batting his paw at a dust bunny. He completely ignored Harry, hopping about the classroom while jumping at invisible animals.

Harry heard Professor O'Flannery sigh, and he turned back to face her. "So are we going to continue with Occlumency?" he asked.

Aislinn nodded. "We are indeed, and I have taken th' liberty of returnin' Dumbledore's pensieve. As before, I won't be usin' it." She popped her knuckles; the echo drifted around the empty classroom before fading. "All right, remember t' empty yeerself of emotion. Take a deep breath. Exhale." Harry followed her instructions, trying to relax. He found it difficult, thinking on what was to come.

"One, two, three… _Legilimens_!"

Once again there was the force of intrusion into his head, and once more the painful memories all began to resurface. Cho Chang. Dudley. Cedric Diggory in the graveyard. Harry's voice tore from his throat, and he realized he had hit the cold stones of the castle floor.

Professor O'Flannery was bending over him, a look of concern on her face. "Are ye all right, boyo?" she asked, reaching down to help him up. Her grip was incredibly strong.

"I-I think so," Harry answered, rubbing his head. "Just every time I think about that…" He let his voice trail off.

"It must o' been horrible f'r ye, Harry. If ye'd like a minute t' compose yeerself, we can wait."

Harry nodded and sat back down in his chair, taking several large gasping breaths. He still had nightmares about Cedric's cold body, staring vacantly off into space with his dead, expressionless eyes. Harry grimaced and forced the memory down his throat, trying to clear his head again. "I think I'm ready," he said to his professor, and clenched his fists.

Aislinn muttered the incantation again, and Harry tried his best to stop her. However, she moved around his block and began sifting through his memories as if they were sand. Harry raised his wand and cast the shielding charm, and once more his head was filled with his teacher's memories.

There was the show from Saturday night and his face, a younger Professor Lupin and Aislinn cuddling on a couch, and Aislinn sitting across from Snape, drinking a coffee and falling into a stupor.

Harry let go of his concentration as if he had been burned. "What happened?" he asked, confused as he stared at his teacher's rigid face.

Aislinn took a deep breath. "Harry, what I'm about t' tell ye is just between you and me. No one else, understand?"

He nodded, and she continued.

"Ye wondered why I left. It's simply because Professor Snape used veritaserum to find out if I was a Death Eater or not. It was against me consent and without me knowledge. I was hurt and angry, and felt I had t' leave. But now, I've managed t' overcome it, and I won't be leavin' again." She nodded to herself. "I'm here t' stay, at least f'r this year."

Harry's loathing of Snape seemed to deepen, if that was at all possible. That must have been the night he saw him hurrying around in the hallways. "At least you're back," he said to her, smiling. "I think everyone missed you, even Malfoy."

Aislinn shrugged. "Doubt he did, but thanks f'r trying." She smiled back at him. "Let's try it again, shall we? An' this time, give me your wand." She held out her hand and Harry put his wand into it, looking at in longingly. "Harry, you have t' learn t' do this with your mind, not your wand. Ye've got t' make a decision that ye don't want me in your head, and push me out. Ready?"

Harry nodded grimly. It seemed he had little chance for passing this exercise. He dimly heard Professor O'Flannery's counting, or her incantation. All he felt was the familiar push of legilimancy. Harry groped for his wand, but realized he didn't have it. Aislinn was bearing down on him. There was Cedric again, dead…

_No!_ Harry rebelled. Aislinn was forcing him to the floor again, but this time Harry fought back with all his might. He focused all his concentration on driving her out and cutting off his memories from her access. He felt as though he had severed something, and then suddenly the presence of his teacher in his head was gone.

He sat on the floor, exhausted, and watched as Professor O'Flannery jumped to her feet, looking triumphant. "Ye did it, boyo! Ye finally did it!" She pumped a fist in the air and fairly suffocated Harry in a tight hug. "My God, child. I knew ye had it in ye!"

"I…can't…breathe…" was all Harry had to say.

Professor O'Flannery released him, a smile spread across her face. "I'm so feckin' proud o' ye, boy." She handed him his wand back and leaned down to scoop up the orange cat that was rubbing against her legs. She slung him under her arm and beckoned to the door. "I'd say we did well enough f'r tonight. So go t' bed." She winked at him on his way out, holding the maimed cat, and Harry couldn't help but wink back.

She was naked and beautiful underneath him, her body writhing and surging in contortions Severus never knew she was capable of. His mind whirled, trying to think back on when she had come into his room. He had come into his chambers, sat in his armchair, and sometime between then and now O'Flannery had entered. How they wound up in bed was anyone's guess. Her legs wrapped around him. He could smell her flesh; it smelled like sweat, like a woman. She groaned and licked her lips.

Snape wanted to say something to her, anything at all, really. Instead he kissed her forehead and rested his cheek against hers as he thrust inside of her. Aislinn opened her eyes, and the look of adoration on her features was replaced with one of horror as she opened her mouth and screamed…

Severus started in fear and Aislinn's sweaty, contorted face disappeared. Instead Snape found himself looking into a dark fireplace. The ashes reminded him of the piles of bone-dust he had once seen as a boy when he had wandered behind the locked door in his family's cellar. It had been a crypt; in fact it still was. His father Cassius was buried there, and his mother would be when she passed. Generations of Snapes had been laid to rest in that cavernous room, each occupied niche sealed and labeled with the names and dates of its lifeless resident. Severus remembered his scream when he had turned, the feeble light from his wandtip revealing countless skulls piled into carved alcoves in the walls. Bones were piled neatly in a corner; some so old they were disintegrating. His mother had rushed in shortly to find her young son staring with horror at the niche where his father would be buried. The name 'Cassius Snape' and the date of birth, 1942, were bright on the new bronze plaque. It only needed a death date.

Severus mused on his father's death eighteen years ago. It had not been a tragedy. The man had fairly disowned his family. Snape grimaced. His boyhood fear was long behind him now, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the pale ashes in the grate of the cold fireplace. Instead he closed his eyes again, resting his cheek on his palm. It had felt so good to sleep, even if it was a sleep plagued by restless dreams. This most recent one had been disconcerting. It seemed to reveal feelings Snape had been trying to swallow, to keep hidden. There was no carnal desire he felt for O'Flannery, but instead a need to apologize. He needed to humble himself before her once more, but this time he wouldn't mess it up. _Forget it_, he told himself, attempting to move on.

He stood, feeling an ache in his joints he had not felt previously. Snape suddenly felt his age, and sighed. Now was not the time to be worrying about aching joints and the other drawbacks that came with getting older. Now was a time for reflection in the midst of chaos. Severus' mind wandered to what he would say in the presence of Voldemort. There was a growing feeling in his gut that the Dark Lord would catch on to his ruse, and then Snape would wish he was dead. The Dark Lord had no mercy for traitors. Snape knew he was playing a very dangerous game, but he owed Dumbledore his allegiance. The man had done so much for him, and this was Snape's way of repaying this kindness. He put his life on the line every single day, but he was glad to do it. He would willingly sacrifice his own life if it would save Albus'.

Severus felt his eyes drawn the brandy decanter on his nightstand. The crystal sparkled tantalizingly, but Snape fought the urge with all his will. He had been trying to curtail his drinking, but the struggle was almost too much to take. He tore his eyes away, chasing down the urge. The last time he had gotten drunk was the night after O'Flannery's show; he had awoken with a horrible headache and his stomach lurching violently. It was the worst hangover he had had in years, and it had done its best to teach him a lesson. For the last three days he had done his best to forget that the temptation of alcohol ever existed, but it was still difficult from time to time.

He decided to forget his fear for a while and rose from his chair. The smell as it poured into the tumbler was exquisite, and Snape swirled it around a bit in the glass before sipping it, savoring the taste of the liquor on his tongue. His latest dream had unnerved him greatly. The thought of flesh alternately turned his stomach and aroused him, a feeling that he had not experienced in years. There was the occasional dream, of course, but it was always with a faceless non-entity, not a coworker whom he loved to hate. He found himself drawn to O'Flannery and her mystery, but at the same time he was a bit put off by her attitude, and the debt he owed to her.

The sudden thought of his betrayal made the expensive brandy seem even more tempting. Severus shook it off and drained his tumbler, swearing it would be the only drink for that night. He had to stop somewhere, and what better way than self-denial? It had worked to curb his lustful desires, at least up until recently. Her open, screaming mouth seemed burned into his mind. He wanted to scream with her, scream for her denial, and scream for all that he had done.

_Isn't my mood dark today_, Snape thought snidely. He placed the tumbler back on the table next to the decanter, pretending not to want another drink. Perhaps if he kept up his ruse of sobriety then maybe it would take. He sighed. There was no chance that would happen. The only way to forget his desire was through frugality. He had to wean himself off of the sauce gradually.

He grimaced. _Gradually_? There was no "gradually" to it. He had to stop, and now. Severus looked at himself in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were darker, and all the fight had seemingly gone out of him. He had never felt so tired in his life. There was nothing more that he wanted than to lay down and sleep for days. His hand snaked up and rubbed his temples, and the headache pounding in his head seemed to subside. The dream still lingered; he could still smell O'Flannery in his nose and see her reddened face in his mind's eye. He could feel his arousal growing once more, and fought to chase it down. _Not now. Not ever_. He had learned to chase down affection long ago. He was still standing, and twisted his arms behind his back, pushing outwards. His spine popped loudly and painfully, but the aftereffect was immediate. Some of the tenseness of day was gone. Now it was time to face something he should have done a long time ago. He took a deep breath to steady his shaking hands and opened the door to his chambers, stepping out into the cold hall, and locked the door behind him.

"**Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón, Bosún," Aislinn said sweetly to her cat, watching from across the room. He had been meowing for a good fifteen minutes, and she was simply getting sick of it. He had food, he had been out, there was nothing that good for nothing animal could ask for. _Except a fourth leg_, she thought with a little chuckle and rose from her seat. She bent to pick up the animal when there was a light knock at her door. Aislinn raised an eyebrow. Surely it wasn't a student, not at this hour. She straightened, and Bosún trotted away from her and jumped gracefully onto her bed. **

**Aislinn's footsteps were soft on the cold stone, and she lit a lamp near the couch quickly just as another, louder knock sounded on the door again. "I'm comin' for the love o' God!" she shouted, irate. Hand on the knob, she twisted and pulled the door open. A sneer twisted on her face. "You. Get out, get away, never come back. Better yet, kill yeerself." She made to shut the door, but Snape's well placed foot stopped her from doing so.**

**"Miss O'Flannery, if you'd please, I'd like to speak to you alone and in a different location, rather than standing at your door."**

**"I don't think so, Severus. Ye betrayed me once, what means ye won't do it again?"**

**She heard him sigh. "I could give you my word, but you wouldn't take it. Suffice it to say, I am feeling increasingly guilty about my conduct with each passing day."**

**Aislinn stepped away from the door, allowing her enemy to enter safely, despite her desire to put a rather long knife between his ribs. He sat on the couch by the cold fireplace without her bidding or invitation. _I wouldn't have offered him a place to sit anyway_, thought Aislinn angrily. The very fact he was here irritated her to the bone.**

**"So ye've finally decided t' come clean and apologize," Aislinn muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "About fucking time." That was directed at Severus, and she noticed his eyes narrowed in obvious anger. "Oh, stop with th' eyes, you bastard. Ye deserve every moment of this."**

**Snape lowered his head. "Perhaps I do, Miss O'Flannery, but I would prefer if you would refrain from berating me until I've had my say. I understand that what I did to you was very wrong. I regret it to no end, but I also realize that what was done was done. There is no way to go back and undo it, so to speak. Instead, we both must learn to accept it and move on. I propose-"**

**"It's easy for you t' say!" Aislinn spun from her frantic pacing and glared at him. "You weren't th' one on that couch. That was my past, Severus. Are ye happy to know about it now? Are ye finally _satisfied_? Or do I have to bend over backwards t' accommodate you again? What do you want t' know? Shall I tell ye about every man I've ever fucked, or do ye want to know what it felt like t' be raped over and over?" Her anger finally exploded, and she lunged forward, wrapping her two thin hands around Snape's throat. "Filthy bastard, I could kill ye now." She saw the fear in his eyes and she tightened her grip. She could do it. She would gladly do it. It would feel so nice to watch his face turn blue; watch him struggle for breath. She began to dig her nails into the soft flesh on the sides of his neck, and he grimaced in pain. "Do you see how it feels to bleed?" she whispered to him softly as she bared her teeth in a feral grin. Her hands tightened. He spluttered as she continued to smile. Aislinn knew she was killing him, but she didn't care.**

**Suddenly there was an explosion of stars in her eyes as his fist came up, smacking her under the jaw. She felt herself falling to the floor and raised her spinning head to look at him, pushing himself to his feet. His wand was aimed squarely at her face. "Direct threat," he growled.**

**"**Ní fhéadfadh aon duine ach tusa a bheith chomh amaideach!" Aislinn screamed at him from her place on the floor. It then occurred to her that her wand was almost all the way across the room. There was no way to perform her wandless magic without Snape noticing. She was totally defenseless. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath.

Severus lowered his wand. "This hasn't turned out at all like I expected. It seems that once again our tempers have led us into direct conflict." He held out a hand as if to help her up. Aislinn glared at it for the time being and turned her head, refusing any aid at all. Instead she pushed herself onto unsteady feet and stalked over to the mirror. She raised her head, examining the angry, forming bruise under her chin. "Good shot, filthy bastard," she muttered, applying pressure and wincing. "A damn good punch." She turned to face her enemy. A bright red weal ringed his throat. She wanted to smile upon seeing it, but held back her merriment.

"Well, now yee're here. Get it over with an' leave. After this, I never want t' speak t' ye again." She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting. "Go on."

Instead, Severus sat back down on the couch. He seemed in shock. "Miss O'Flannery, you could have killed me."

"And if ye hadn't of hit me, I damn well would have."

He sat back for a moment, the reality of the situation sinking in. She thought she heard him whisper something, but decided to overlook it. "About that apology, Severus."

"I figured the threat on my life should be enough for you," he spat. There was pure anger in his eyes, but something else as well. Something almost like desire.

Aislinn raised herself to her full height. "Ye figured wrong. Ba shuarach an cleas é, Severus. It. Was. A. Cheap. Trick." Every word was carefully enunciated and stressed.

He said nothing. Instead he looked into her eyes, his cold black stare matching her icy green one. "You really do hate me, don't you, Miss O'Flannery?" he asked. She nodded. He sighed. Then he did something very strange.

Aislinn watched with raised eyebrows as he unbuttoned the left sleeve of his shirt and rolled it up. Slowly, Aislinn began to see something on the soft white skin of his forearm. She originally thought it was a tattoo, but soon the livid Dark Mark was entirely visible.

She gasped. "And all this time…" Her voice trailed off. "And ye thought… I never knew… Father… Voldemort…" She paused, her breath coming in surprised gasps. Her eyes met his. "I was misled. _That_ is how you managed to worm your way into _his_ circle." She felt angry and betrayed. "Ye lied t' me by omission, Severus. And ye had the nerve to suspect me, when, Christ, ye should have known." There were tears in her eyes that she blinked back. So much had been revealed in the one moment, with that one gesture. So much of his mystery and suspicion was made clear. "You ass. You pompous, self-absorbed ass. Get out. GET OUT!" Her finger, now pointed at the door, was trembling with rage. "Leave. It was people like you who did what was done to me." More tears chased down. There was a burning in her throat. "Why are you still here? **_Get out of my sight, now_**!" The shock was replaced with anger now, but as she met his eyes there was something new there.

The tears she had so recently chased down were now spilling down _Severus'_ cheeks. She stared at him in open confusion, scarcely believing that the once-incensed man was now crying. "A-are you angry?" she asked timidly.

Snape did not reply. Instead he covered his eyes with a hand in shame. Aislinn continued to stand in the center of the room, lost and confused. She watched him in his silence, trying to figure out what to do. She had never been in a situation such as this before. "Severus?" she asked gently. His shoulders shook with noiseless sobs, the tears now trailing between his fingers and dropping onto the floor. He looked so defenseless; it stirred something in Aislinn. She moved towards him slowly and sat next to him on the couch. "Severus," she cooed, gently pulling his hand from his face. His eyes were filled with disgrace.

"I'm-I'm sorry, Miss O'Flannery," he muttered as he rose to go.

Aislinn caught his wrist, pulling him back onto the couch. "What happened to you?" she asked.

Snape looked away from her. "I was young. I was stupid, but I can blame it upon no one but myself." He took a shuddering breath. "It ruined my life."

"How old were you, Severus?" Aislinn asked, running her index finger down his damp cheek.

"Sixteen. _Only_ sixteen." He raised his eyes to meet hers. She could see they were filled with pain and self-loathing. "Miss O'Flannery, you don't deserve to have the acquaintance of someone such as myself."

Aislinn held a finger to his lips. "Hush."

"You don't understand. Your memories, your hate, I understood. _I did those things_. I've raped, I've murdered. I would torture children just to see the fear in their eyes." There was such revulsion in his eyes. "I slit their throats to see them bleed!" he cried, sobbing.

Aislinn cradled his head against her breasts, rocking back and forth like a mother with her young child. "Cry your tears, Severus," she whispered, stroking his hair. His shoulders heaved with his sobs and he moaned sadly into her bosom. She could feel the wetness of his tears, but finally he seemed human. He was no longer an enigma; he was a man. A man with shame, a man with pain, a man with horrors in his past equal to hers. She resisted the urge to finger the scars on her back, and instead held his body close to hers, murmuring nonsense phrases as one would do to a small child.

"She was twelve. Only twelve," he sobbed into her shirt. "I raped her. I tortured her. I killed her. And then I laughed. I fucking _laughed_, Miss O'Flannery!"

"Fuist, darlin.'" Aislinn was horrified, but she kept her mouth shut. He was no different than her father. _Liar_, she thought. At least _this_ man was remorseful. At least _he_ could cry; he could realize that he had done wrong. "Fuist." She held him tighter and trailed her hand down his spine. His body no longer trembled with emotion; in fact he was rather still. "Severus?" Aislinn whispered, clearing a strand of hair back from his face.

She felt him take a deep breath, and released her grip on him. He straightened and looked at her warily. "Miss O'Flannery I'd like to apologize for my behavior the previous weeks." She noticed his face was reddened with obvious embarrassment. His cheeks were still wet with tears and his eyes were red-rimmed. Overall he looked completely pitiful. Aislinn had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Severus, there is nothing t' apologize f'r. If ye like, I can forget this ever happened."

He shook his head. "I don't ask that you forget it. Just that you realize I am truly sorry for what I have put you – and myself - through. I hope I don't have to humble myself like this again." He attempted to look serious, but his sniffle at the end of the sentence made Aislinn smile.

"You look laughable, Severus." He had no response. He merely sat there, his eyes averted from his once-enemy's face. Aislinn sighed. "We all have tears. We both have horrible memories. Sometimes we must put pride to the side and just let ourselves cry."

Snape nodded, and then looked at her. "Let ourselves cry," he muttered, and then his lips bent into a smile. It was small, and a bit rueful, but a smile nonetheless.

This was the first time Aislinn had ever seen him smile, and mean it. Of course there were the condescending smirks, but this was entirely different. She smiled back, the same small grin he was currently giving her. She reached up and wiped a tear off of his cheek, and he grabbed her hand.

"I'm sorry, Miss O'Flannery," he said again so softly Aislinn could barely hear him.

"I guess I have to forgive ye now, since ye've bared your soul t' me," she muttered. He was still holding her hand. It felt odd to have him touch her in a way that wasn't malevolent. After the punches and the insults, such an innocent gesture felt strange.

Snape looked around. "Do you have any liquor, Miss?"

Aislinn raised an eyebrow. "F'r what cause? Ye don't need any at the moment, and anyway, I have none." She grinned at Snape's sigh. "I can smell brandy on your breath, anyway."

"Can you, Miss O'Flannery?" Snape asked, smirking. "I'm surprised you can recognize it as brandy."

She shrugged. "What can I say? I drink like the rest of 'em. I've come t' believe ye have to when you're in this line o' business." Aislinn leaned in closer, sniffing. "Yes, it's definitely brandy." She looked up at him, and for the first time realized how beautiful his eyes were. They could be cruel and hard, but at the moment they were unguarded. She could see herself reflected in them.

"What are you looking at, Miss O'Flannery?" he asked.

"Your eyes. I've never really noticed what they look like up close, since the only times I've seen them they've been filled wi' loathing."

Snape leaned in as well. "What are they filled with now, Miss?" he asked lowly, his voice a velvet purr.

"Desire."

Snape smirked. "Perhaps," he said. "Or perhaps not."

Aislinn wanted to separate herself from the situation, but at the same time she dared to continue. His tears had revealed another side of him she had never thought existed. She had realized that under the callousness and the cynicism there was a very insecure man, a man with a past very much like hers. That endeared him to her, whether he knew it or not.

"What are you thinking about now, Miss O'Flannery? You're face tells me you're somewhere else." God, that voice. It was deep and sultry without intending to be so. It sent shivers down her spine.

"Just you, really. About how we're alike, even if ye don't want to admit it, we're damn similar. That, and your voice," she added under her breath, hoping he wouldn't hear.

Obviously, he did. He smiled his tiny, knowing smile again and touched her cheek. "My voice, Miss O'Flannery?" was the last thing he said before he pulled her to him.

Aislinn's eyes closed on reflex, but her senses were swimming. When did this happen? Just an hour ago she had hated him with all her being, and now she was kissing him on her couch. It felt strange to be so close to him, so _incredibly_ close to each other, but at the same time his lips felt good. _Fuck analyzing_, she thought and kissed him back.

She relaxed into it, putting one hand on the back of his neck and biting his bottom lip gently. She took the initiative and slipped her tongue in between his teeth, but he pulled away. Aislinn opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his eyes confused.

"A-Aislinn?" he asked.

"Severus," she answered, leaning forward.

He stood, backing away slowly. "I-I think I should be going now. I've made my apology. Goodnight, Miss O'Flannery." He turned on his heel and opened her door, turning back to look at her for a split-second before stepping out in the hallway.

When the door closed Aislinn slapped a hand over her eyes. _I just kissed Severus Snape_. "Well fuck," she said through gritted teeth as her head swum. _I just kissed Severus Snape and **liked**__it._

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were gathered around a table in the library, doing some last minute research for their Potions homework. Snape had been particularly brutal this year, assigning more than Harry thought was humanly possible to accomplish. Most nights he was up until four trying to get all of it done. He had not told his friends about Aislinn's betrayal, or Snape's part in it. He figured that should be kept to himself. However, it only made him loathe the man more. That he could do that to someone so kind as O'Flannery was appalling. _He was a Death Eater, Harry, and might still be_, a nagging voice in his head reminded him. The man was a monster. That's all there was to it.

"So how did your detention last night go, mate?" asked Ron, quirking an eyebrow at Harry's detached expression.

Suddenly, Harry realized he hadn't told either of his companions about his triumph at Occlumency last night. The force of his professor's intrusion and the effort of fighting it off had won him over; he had collapsed into bed as soon as he returned to his chamber. "You'll never believe it, but I did it."

"Did what?" asked Hermione, her nose buried deep into a book.

Harry smiled. "I _did_ it. I successfully pushed her out of my head. I managed to do Occlumency for the first time."

Hermione's head shot up. "Harry, that's wonderful! Obviously it's easier to practice with Professor O'Flannery then."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I mean, she's not any easier on me than Snape was, but she's a hell of a lot nicer. Oh, and Hermione, she has a cat like yours."

"Really?" Hermione asked, almost a squeal. Her cat, Crookshanks, was her pride and joy.

Harry nodded. "It's an orange tabby, but with short hair and three legs."

"Three legs?" Ron laughed. "It only has three legs?"

"Yeah, but it gets around okay. Its name is Bosún, which means 'mistake.'"

Hermione smiled at Harry from across the table. "You're just learning all kinds of things. Is that a Gaelic word?"

"I would think so. She probably grew up speaking it. I wonder if she and Seamus ever got over their differences. They would be perfect candidates to talk about whatever in that crazy sounding language." Harry paused. "I wonder if she misses Ireland."

Ron shrugged. "Dunno, mate, but I do know if I read another word I'm going to die. Let's go raid the kitchens."

"I want to see the kitty," Hermione muttered, sounding very much like the schoolgirl she was.

"We don't know where her rooms are, Hermione. Maybe she's still in her classroom. It's only five."

Hermione stood and closed the book. "I'm going to check. We need to thank her anyway for not spilling the beans about London."

Harry and Ron stood ruefully, lamenting the fact that they were choosing a teacher over food.

"Shut up, you two, dinner is only in an hour and a half," Hermione snapped, tucking the book under her arm and pushing in her chair. "Let's go."

The hallways were cold, and the three students pulled their robes tighter against them. From time to time they heard occasional laughter or shouting down the corridors, but overall there was relative silence in the castle. Most students were probably in their common rooms or outside, despite the winter chill hanging in the air.

As they reached Aislinn's classroom, the stopped talking. Instead, Hermione knocked on the doorframe. "Professor O'Flannery?" she called out.

"What?" came an answering cry from the office. "Can I help you with something?" It seemed she had adopted the false accent again that she used in classes and with colleagues.

"It's Hermione, Harry, and Ron, Professor. We came to ask you a question."

The office door opened and Aislinn stood framed by sunlight, her jacket over an arm. She looked intimidating at her full height, tattoos glaringly evident on her pale skin. A few strands of hair had escaped her ponytail and fell to her shoulders. "Oh. It's you," was all she said and crooked a finger, beckoning the three students in.

Hermione led the way into her office, where Aislinn was bolting a window shut. "Forgive me if it's cold in here. I like th' way a chill feels on me skin." The edges of her mouth curled into a smile. "Sit down." With a wave of her wand she conjured two more chairs. "Get comfortable. No use in standin' about like a bunch o' statues."

Harry's eyes were drawn to those intricate bands of ink ringing her upper arms. "Did they hurt?" he asked softly, peering over the edges of his glasses.

Aislinn merely shook her head. "The pain becomes dull after a while. It's tolerable. The one on th' finger hurt much worse." Then, she pulled the jacket on again, covering the tattoos. "I feel they shouldn't be shown during class. I love 'em though." She knit her brows together as if thinking. "I believe there's some type of catharsis in submitting yourself t' the buzz and sting o' th' needle, in paying someone t' hurt ye." She sighed. "An' ye came here t' ask me what?"

All eyes turned to Hermione. Harry saw her swallow visibly. "I-I wanted to ask if I could possibly see your cat." The words rushed from her mouth and she blushed visibly.

In response, Aislinn threw back her head and laughed. "Your sense of propriety makes me laugh, child. Wipe the color off your cheeks and come wi' me." She stood, holding the office door as the three children filed out, somewhat taken aback at her openness to allow them into her chambers. They watched her as she turned, setting wards on her office by snapping her fingers and mumbling something in the strange sounding language.

"All right, follow." Their professor crooked a finger. "I'm afraid ye might find that, despite your hesitation, me rooms are not spectacular. There's no hidden bar, secret passages, or anything else. I just don't have t' share mine." By that time they were walking down a hallway near the classroom lined with doors. "Most o' these are just storage, although there are a few others that live on th' hall wi' me."

As if on cue, a door opened, and Professor Sinistra stepped out. He took one look at Aislinn and her following companions and raised an eyebrow.

"Zey've been bad, Professor. I am taking zem back to my secret dungeon to torture zem," Aislinn joked in a thick German accent.

Sinistra shook his head. "Miss O'Flannery, in all the years I have known you, you never cease to amaze me with the things you do. Do you remember when you were a fourth year and that little prank you decided to play on Minerva?" he asked with a smile on his face.

Harry saw Aislinn's eyes go wide. "What did you do?" he asked. He knew the Marauders to play pranks, but he had never considered O'Flannery might have been a troublemaker as well.

Aislinn got over her surprise and laughed. "I still think she has it out t' get me, Nigel. No one could easily forget itchin' powder in yer drawers."

Hermione stifled a chuckle. "You-you did that? To a _teacher_?"

Aislinn nodded. "I was a right little shite. I'll see you, Sinistra." She waved and continued walking. "Honestly, Miss Granger, I had t' get me fun somewhere."

Something was stewing in Harry's mind. "Professor, I have to ask, did you ever know my father?"

In front of him, Professor O'Flannery shook her head. "I had seen him around. By the time 'e was a seventh year, I had just started school. I'm significantly younger than your father would be, Harry. I knew Sirius a little better."

Sirius' name caused Harry to stumble somewhat. Although his godfather's death always dwelled at the back of his mind, her admission brought back the pain and bitter taste of denial to Harry's mouth. "Ho-how long did you know him?" Harry asked quietly.

Aislinn stopped at a door, snapping her fingers again and this time saying something in Latin. The door unlocked, and their professor turned the knob. "Harry, I never knew him well. I only met 'im through Lupin, who if ye haven't figured it out, is a damn good friend o' mine. Sirius Black came a few shows, bought me a few drinks, and we shared a few laughs." A pause. "I'm sorry I can't help ye with more. That's it. That's the end." She hung her head, but then pushed the door inward. "Go."

As Harry walked in, the first thing he noticed were two big yellow eyes staring at them from a corner. Suddenly, Aislinn yanked the blinds up and the owner of the eyes was revealed. A fierce looking golden eagle peered around the room and clacked his beak. He heard Aislinn say something to him, and the she opened the window. The bird flew out into the cold air, his wings flapping furiously as he soared away.

"The bird gets hungry often. I'm afraid one day he'll end up fat an' lazy." As if she noticed the questions in their eyes, she continued to speak. "I didn't want an owl, so a friend sent me a fuzzy little golden eagle from th' States. He's a wonder, although he looks summat fierce."

Her room was almost spotlessly clean except for the telltale ashes in the fireplace. Her bed was massive and hung with a blood-red drapery. A desk placed underneath a window was strewn with papers and pens and a violin case lay on the chair. His eyes, however, were drawn to the guitars in the corner, one acoustic and one electric. They both looked well used and well loved, which he had no doubt they were both.

Hermione's sudden squeal cut through the air. "He _does_ only have three legs!"

Harry rolled his eyes and walked to Aislinn's bed, where Ron and Hermione were standing, admiring the cat. Its eyes were glaring suspiciously, and his fur was on end.

"Bosún." That was Aislinn's voice, both condescending and threatening. The cat's fur settled, and he even settled onto his haunches with a look of smug annoyance. "Ye just got to know how t' talk to him. He's friendly enough, if a little protective."

Hermione tenuously reached out her hand, brushing the tip of his ear. The cat sniffed her hand suspiciously, and then licked her fingers. As Hermione scratched his head she began to mumble nonsense baby phrases to the cat as it moved closer to her. "I love you, wickle kitty kitty. I want to pet you forever baby kitty friend," she said, cooing at it.

"It's disgusting," Ron whispered to Harry. "She reminds me of my mother when she does that. Besides, I'm getting kind of hungry."

Harry checked his watch. "Uh, Hermione, it's close to dinner time. We can come back and see the kitty later."

Hermione sighed. "Okay. To dinner, then." She turned to Aislinn. "Thank you very much for letting us see the cat."

Aislinn nodded once. "It's no problem. You're welcome any time. Harry, remember, tonight at nine. More practice." She winked and turned back to window, seemingly lost in thought. Harry thought he heard her sigh.

In the hallway, Hermione led the way, talking non stop about how cute the cat was and how it's face was perfect and it's little leg stump was the most adorable thing she had ever seen, because it was furry. Ron merely rolled his eyes at Harry and continued walking.

Harry, however, was thinking about Sirius. How had Aislinn seen him? What was behind that veil? And, if in death you retained your memory, did Sirius ever think about _him_? Harry shook his head, his thoughts taking him elsewhere, to a sky filled with stars.


End file.
